


Turquoise

by lxuisfineline



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - X Factor Fusion, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Closeted Harry, Competition, Dark Harry, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Endgame Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Enemies to Lovers, Famous Harry, Harry Styles Needs a Hug, How Do I Tag, JUST KISS ALREADY, Liam Payne & Harry Styles Friendship, M/M, Music, Niall Horan & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, Non-Famous Louis Tomlinson, POV Louis Tomlinson, Partying, Rockstar Harry Styles, Simon Cowell Being An Asshole, The Great Gatsby References, Toxic Relationship, Zayn Malik & Harry Styles Friendship, harry needs to go to rehab, i promise there is a happy ending, its just a bit complicated, just read it, taylor is a beard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 80,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27907162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lxuisfineline/pseuds/lxuisfineline
Summary: "Long eyelashes framed the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. They were that hue of green that only shows when the sun hits the sea in England at just the right spot, where the sun-rays leave golden specks dancing in the water. Interwoven shades of green, blue and gold hiding the chaotic nature behind them. Never before had eyes held such danger and beauty all at once. Harry Styles was a wild fire: reckless, untamed, yet undeniably captivating."--When Louis Tomlinson auditioned for Factor 28, he did not expect to be mentored by infamous rockstar, Harry Styles. But as he gets to know the star, he spirals into a world of blackmail, drugs, sex, fame and rock&roll.--Rated R for drug usage, alcohol abuse, swearing and sexual references
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 51
Kudos: 113





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter @lxuisfineline

His feet felt heavy and his head felt light as he shuffled along the infinite line towards the arena. He'd been queuing for hours in the baking sun and acid continued to rise in his throat. Beads of sweat rolled down his toned and tattooed arms, like dewdrops falling on broken branches in a damp forest. The uneasy feeling of nervousness was well and truly lodged in Louis Tomlinson's empty stomach. In just over an hour, he would be auditioning in front of one of the biggest names in show business.

Factor 28 had been running for years in the UK, but had been revamped, following Simon Cowbell's takeover of the show. Its mission was to find the biggest stars of tomorrow and the new boss was determined to do just that. The show had been moved from its daytime slot to the desired prime time of 9pm on a Saturday and Simon had recruited some of his biggest stars to work as mentors. The title sequence and venue had been given a shiny new makeover and millions had been pumped into the production of it. It was no longer a cringy daytime tv show that stay-at-home mums would watch whilst ironing.

Factor 28 was now a serious talent competition and Louis was competing in it.

Since he was a little lad, all Louis had wanted to do was sing. Music engulfed every moment in his life and guided him through the trials and tribulations he had endured. For years, Louis had experimented with his sound, being in numerous bands, until finally, he fell upon Brit-pop. It was at that moment he was truly inspired to start writing and moulding himself as an artist. All he needed was exposure. That was where this crazy talent competition factored in.

Ahead, Louis could see the production crew reading a list and pointing at different contestants. He prayed that they would not single him out; he was not prepared to be bombarded with questions. He pulled at his damp white tank and rubbed at his tattoo-littered arms, looking anywhere but at them. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side and soon enough he had a camera shoved in his face.

"Louis Tomlinson!" James Corden, the new presenter of the show wrapped an arm around Louis' slender waist and he tried not to squirm at the non-consensual touching. "Welcome to Factor 28," He smiled and Louis forced one back, hoping it didn't look too fake.

"Why are you here today, Louis?" James failed to sense Louis's sense of uneasiness and placed a microphone under his nose. Louis gulped and looked at the presenter. His friendly and genuine demeanour relaxed him a little and his fake grin turned into a small, but sincere one.

"I want to sing," He shrugged, pushing his a loose dark hair out of his face before speaking again. "I want to sing for the rest of my life," James nodded at his earnest answer, actually listening to him, which was comforting.

"Well that sounds like a good reason to be here," He chuckled and Louis chuckled as well, feeling the nerves dissipate.

"Well, I'm not exactly here to walk the dogs," He bantered back sarcastically. James looked a little taken aback by the sassy comment but laughed nonetheless. He raised his eyebrow at the small, young man from Doncaster.

"Ah a comedian as well as a singer," Louis took a little bow, which resulted in a few members of the camera crew chuckling. Around him, other contestants shot him envious glances at the attention he was gaining but he didn't mind. He'd handled the situation a lot better than he initially expected.

"Are there any mentors that you really want to work with?" James then asked, once the laughter had died down.

Louis paused to think. Simon had recruited some amazing talents for the reboot. Jennifer Lopez was an icon who had been in the industry for decades. She knew it like the back of her hand. Louis could imagine her being an incredible mentor. Then there was Ariana Grande, probably one of the kindest people in show business as well as the most talented. Her voice always transported Louis to another dimension and he would love to work with her. Of course, he couldn't forget Drake! That man had broken record after record and seemed like a very funny guy, plus he was friends with Rihanna and Nicki Minaj so that was a positive. Imagine the parties they would have. As a serial partier, he could not even imagine the crazy scenes. Louis would be over the moon to work with any of them.

There was one mentor he wanted to steer clear of, though.

Harry Styles: The Rockstar/troublemaker. The two were interchangeable.

Louis remembered the first time he'd seen Harry perform. He was a new talent at the Brit awards. His voice had completely hypnotised him and he became entranced by his musicality and image. Harry had been unapologetically himself, wearing extravagant clothes, flamboyantly throwing himself around the stage screaming the lyrics to Kiwi. It was an old-fashioned type of song, an instant classic. Louis decided at that moment: Harry Styles was born to be a star.

Unfortunately for the singer, it seemed fame had gone to his head and whilst Harry still preformed like a legend in the making, his personal life had completely overshadowed any shred of talent he possessed. He always came off as arrogant and a lady's man through and through, despite being married to superstar, Taylor Swift. His whole life was a whirlwind and a mess; his dirty laundry constantly printed on the front of newspapers and the subject of gossip online.

Louis could not imagine working with someone like that. He was vain, rude and allegedly a nightmare to work for.

Trying to take his mind off of the failing Rockstar, he quickly answered the question. "Um," Louis swallowed. "Ariana would be pretty sick to work with,"

James nodded and smiled. He was then taken away by some production crew members who insisted he skipped the queue. Clearly his dry and witty sense of humour had won them over. He just hoped his singing would do the same. They checked that he was familiar with the format of the auditions, which he was.

Louis had completely immersed himself in all things Factor 28 before his audition. The process of the show was quite unorthodox, but that was one of its appeals. Louis would first perform in front of Simon Cowbell, the boss and brains behind the entire music industry. Simon would then decide which mentor he would suit, based on his image, personality, genre and looks. From then, the mentor would then work closely with him and 14 other contestants for a week, before narrowing them down to four. That was when the live shows would begin. Louis dreamed of making it that far, but first, he had to impress the boss.

He could feel cameras on him as he placed his small, delicate hand on the giant white doors that led to the audition room. He supposed they had been added for dramatic affect and they had worked. His anxiety peaked and he felt his body go stiff and clammy. He quickly wiped his hands on his skin-tight black jeans before pushing the decadent doors open.

On the other side of the door sat a middle-aged man wearing a low v neck t shirt in the front of a professional looking desk. This was the man who had the ability to change Louis' life. He barely glanced up at the boy as he anxiously walked into the room and scoffed.

"Nice to see you've made an effort," He raised an eyebrow at Louis' attire, causing the young man to cringe. Simon then went back to reading whatever papers were in front of him. He pulled at his tank subconsciously before reminding himself to be confident.

Confidence was key.

"Thanks Simon," He replied back sarcastically. "I'm usually in a trackie when I'm up in Donny so I thought I'd make an effort just for you,"

The man stopped for second and slowly lifted his head to meet Louis' eyes. A small smile formed on his thin lips and Louis breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Pretty and gobby," He chuckled. "Let's hope you can sing. You wrote this, yes?" Louis nodded. In all honesty, he had been so stressed on what to cover, he decided to go for an original. If Simon wanted to see what artist he wanted to become, he might as well see his writing capabilities.

"That's different. Risky, I don't know if I like that," Simon said, a pencil hanging between his unnatural, bleached white teeth, as he watched Louis prepare himself.

He felt nervous and his hands were shaky. Simon was already setting him up to fail. A mic stand was placed in front of him and he adjusted its height to meet his small 5 foot 7 frame. Nodding to the sound man, he opened his mouth and let the words flow out.

"You're a nightmare on the dance floor and you hate me, and I want more," Louis grabbed the mic and leant into the stand, doing his best to appear calm and collected. The acoustic guitar rang through the speakers and his voice travelled in the tense air. "You're a total distraction while I'm waiting for your reaction," He began to smile a little and let the music guide him through the audition. It was slowly building up and he could see Simon preparing himself. He looked intrigued and slightly surprised by the voice that Louis possessed.

"Why, ah, ah, ah the devil in my brain whispering my name. I can hear it sayin', ah, ah, ah," He moaned into the mic and smirked a little. Simon chuckled and continued to listen, making notes on his papers as the music played. "I can ease the pain. Just a little taste babe,"

The music suddenly stripped back to just his voice and he hissed into the mic: "And ya won't let go of your hold on me," Throwing his head back, Louis nodded in time with the beat drop and heavy drums.

"You kill my mind. Raise my body back to life. And I don't know what I'd do without you now. You kill my mind. Raise my body back to life. And I don't know what I'd do without you now," Simon raised his arm to stop the music and Louis stopped, frozen on the spot. He thought that the audition had gone well but Simon just stared at him in silence.

"Louis Tomlinson," He said, looking at him in confusion, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows knitted. "You're not what I was expecting at all,"

His eyes widened. This was it. Simon would tell him to give up on his dream and he'd probably end up working in a bank or something. He prayed that wouldn't happen. This was his only option. It was music or nothing. His head hung in shame, and embarrassment.

"I absolutely love you," Louis looked up from the floor and smiled, shocked but relieved. "You're obviously good looking, cheeky, a talented songwriter and your voice is something else," Louis tried not to cry. Since he was a child, all he'd wanted to hear was validation from someone important. When his mum was alive, she was the only praise he needed, but after her death, nothing anyone said could convince him of his worth. But validation from Simon? That was something else.

"I know exactly who to put as your mentor, good job Louis,"


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to follow me on Twitter @lxuisfineline.  
> Please leave comments and kudos <3

Louis's leg anxiously bounced up and down as he sat on a rough sofa in a room full of competitors. It was mainly silent with each of them sizing up the other and the occasional comment made about who their mentor was going to be. He tried his best not to make eye contact with any of them, in case they stressed him in some way. He'd already made that mistake once today.

When Louis had first entered the room, he had been greeted by a group of well put together, beautiful humans, with pristine, perfect smiles. They were all in jet black with outrageous makeup and hair. Louis felt like he had stepped into a music video set, rather than a dingy and slightly damp waiting room.

The group had glanced at his attire and appearance before physically stepping back, repulsed by him. Their smiles had dropped and they all shared a look of disgust with one another. Clearly, Louis had not got the memo that only models were allowed to apply for the competition.

Intimidated could even begin to describe his feelings as he slumped into the sofa away from them in a huff. He hoped that the arrival of the other contestants would ease his nerves. They didn't.

And so he was here, miserable, with a shaking knee, trying his best to look anywhere but at his gorgeous competitors.

Instead, he focused on the small dirt marks on the grey walls, attempting to make patterns (like he was stargazing), and fiddled with a lone ring on his forefinger. The person next to him was also obviously nervous and continued to fidget. Louis found it very off-putting but he tried not to draw attention to it.

It took a lot of restraint on his part, and he found his fists clenching then unclenching. "Now is not the time Tommo," he tried to remind himself.

The anxiety-ridden person eventually turned to him and asked: "Who do you think is going to be our mentor?" Louis turned his head to see a pretty blonde girl with big blue eyes that were almost cartoonish, staring back at him. Her face was warm and welcoming, but the dark eyeliner and lipstick completely diminished her 'girl next-door' appearance. Louis shrugged his shoulders in response to her question and she sighed, leaning into him slightly.

"I'd love for it to be Harry Styles. Imagine how fun it would be to have him as your mentor?!" Louis didn't respond. He was not in this competition to have fun. He wanted, no, he NEEDED a musical career. Nothing else in this world mattered to him. The girl obviously sensed his discomfort and disagreement and leaned away. He went back to staring at the wall.

However, the short one-sided conversation between the two had caused a rise in volume and soon everyone was chatting. Many were speaking about their experience performing, training, friends in the industry. For not the first time in his life, Louis felt grossly inferior. Perhaps, he wasn't going to make it. If these were the people he was up against, he'd have no chance.

The sick feeling rose in his stomach once more and he clutched his side to try and ease the pain. It didn't work. The volume was continuing to increase and his ears were ringing.

Louis was going to throw up.

He turned to the production crew and mumbled something about the toilet. They were friendly enough and pointed towards a door. He nodded and raced there, clutching his mouth as he went. He was not going to throw up on the floor in front of everyone.

His temperature continued to soar as he made his way to the long corridor. It seemed even hotter here than with everyone else. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he found the sign for the toilet and dashed into the closest stall.

Absolutely everything came up. He couldn't stop chundering and he felt shaky and tired. Yet again, his nerves had gotten the best of him. He'd thrown up before a few of his concerts in the past, and, although he tried his best to remain calm, occasionally he would get lost in his head.

Appearing confident and being confident were two completely different entities. Louis knew that better than most.

Once he finished, he leaned his head against the stall and sighed at his pathetic behaviour. All his competitors were out there chatting and having the time of their lives and he was here, throwing up in a public bathroom. Shaking the uneasy feeling off, Louis stood and grabbed some gum from his pocket to get rid of the acidic aftertaste in his mouth. He then closed his eyes and prepared himself to re-enter the room.

Leaving the stall in a rush, he failed to see someone else and clashed with their body with painful and staggering impact. He was going to fall, he could feel it, this was going to be so embar-

-a strong hand fitted behind his back and pulled him up so that he was face-to-face with the stranger.

"Oops," He chuckled and Louis' eyes widened. Long dark eyelashes framed the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. They were that hue of green that only shows when the sun hits the sea in England at just the right spot, where the sun-rays leave golden specks dancing in the water. Interwoven shades of green, blue and gold hiding the chaotic nature behind them. Never before had eyes held such danger and beauty all at once. Harry Styles was a wild fire: reckless, untamed, yet undeniably captivating.

"Hi," Louis replied back, slightly breathless from the near fall and the man in front of him. Harry smirked slightly and ran his hand through his short, wavy hair. Louis stared in awe. His hair was dark and lustrous and had a sheen like fine hardwood, the depths of the deep chestnut brown reflecting the radiance of his smile.

"Someone clearly wanted to see me," Harry chuckled and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a flashy Gucci wallet. Louis frowned as the man sorted through the contents inside and took in the rest of his appearance. The initial shock of coming face to face with a Rockstar had subsided and Louis began to notice the wrinkles of imperfection in the man's outward-image. Dark circles encased his glowing eyes, and his skin seemed dull and tired. There was a slight tremor in his hand and Louis couldn't help but notice the chipped nail polish on his fingertips. His outfit was still immaculate: a faded vintage t shirt, coupled with a light blue blazer and matching flares, coupled with white polished boots, but Louis couldn't help but notice the lack of life in his face.

Eventually the man stopped fiddling around in his wallet and pulled out some sort of card. He handed it to Louis and smiled. Louis looked down to see it was a signed picture of Harry from a recent vogue shoot. His hair had been slicked back and glittery eyeliner surrounded his eyes and he wore bright red lipstick. Louis could still remember the controversy over the androgynous shoot, like it was yesterday. Every newspaper had seemed to cover it, branding him gay, despite him having a wife.

Louis pulled a face and looked back at the Rockstar. Did he expect him to be grateful?

"I assume that's what you wanted. How you got past security is beyond me, but you're welcome, blue eyes," He tapped Louis' shoulder and began to walk towards the sink. Louis opened his mouth in protest.

"I wasn't-" But was cut off by Harry who looked at him with a smug grin written all over his face.

"It's ok. I won't tell. Now if you don't mind, I'm actually about to go and do something that's actually important so you can leave, even if you're pretty to look at," Louis gasped at the sudden change in personality from the man. It was cold and harsh and plain rude.

Harry looked anxious and on edge and his eyes stared straight into Louis' soul. He was challenging him, daring him to go against his wishes. He couldn't quite believe the cheek of him. Sure, he was a big Rockstar, but he was not that special.

Louis shook his head and turned his body away from the man, ready to walk out of the bathroom. When the reached the door, he turned back to steal a final glance at Harry, still unable to quite believe what had happened. To his surprise, the man had pulled out a packet of white powder and was desperately trying to open it, his shaking hands, struggling to unlock the zip.

Drugs.

Louis scoffed. Thinking about it, he shouldn't have been shocked. Harry Styles was a train wreck. Cocaine came hand-in-hand with that label.

He walked out of the bathroom, shaking his head in disgust.

Surprisingly, his nerves had dissipated, following the encounter with the drugged-up celebrity. It had certainly taken his mind off of his competition and he felt almost back to normal. When he entered the waiting room where everyone else was, the platinum haired-girl waved at him. she had her leg on the sofa and Louis let out a grateful smile at her for saving his seat.

"Thank you," He smiled as she shifted so he could sit down next to her. She tucked her long hair behind her ear and sent him a friendly smile.

"No problem. I could see you were feeling tense. Didn't want you to have any more stress looking for somewhere to sit," She chuckled and Louis blushed a little. He had clearly misjudged this girl completely. She seemed like a really cool person. "Besides, I missed you. Seems like you and I are the only people in this room whose uncle doesn't work for Simon,"

Louis nodded at that, relieved that he wasn't the only one who found the situation very intimidating.

"I'm Ashe, by the way," She smiled, extending her hand. Louis took it and gave it a gentle shake. Not too firm but not too limp.

"I'm Louis," He replied, smiling shyly, flicking his dark, choppy hair out of his face. She nodded at that, probably making a mental note to remember his name. she seemed like the type of person to do that. Observant and kind-hearted and able to make any man's heart warm like a summer dusk in California. There was definitely a juxtaposition between her clothes and personality. He had definitely misjudged her.

"How come you were in the bathroom so long? Run into anyone important?" She chuckled and Louis paled, debating whether or not to tell her of his interaction with the notorious Harry Styles. Would that be professional to do? Would he seem like a gossip? Would it affect him moving forward in the competition? Before he could open his mouth to say something, anything, the production crew sprang to life.

Within seconds they had set up all their cameras and recording equipment, a lens pointing directly towards Louis and Ashe.

"Your mentor is about to walk through the door," The head of the crew yelled and Louis felt himself sit up straighter. Beside him, Ashe did the same and he snuck a glance in her direction. She smirked at him a little and he tried not to chuckle as they waited. Both of their eyes were pinned to the door, waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Louis watched the door handle turn agonisingly slow, the metal catching the artificial light as it turned. The room was silent and you could hear a pin drop. All of them sat impatiently watching the door creep open, like a tortoise in a sprint race.

"Hello everyone, I'm Harry Styles,"

Louis' heart sank to the bottom of the ocean and was drowning, losing air and suffocating. It couldn't be. Out of all the mentors, he had to have the Cocaine addicted, arrogant one who didn't even realise that he was a competitor. Or at least he didn't until that moment.

Harry's mesmerising eyes and diluted pupils met Louis' almost instantly and they widened in shock. Louis resisted the urge to roll his own and instead stared him down, unimpressed. Harry could sense his annoyance and sent him an apologetic glance before smiling at the other contestants, greeting them and laughing.

'He's high as a kite right now,' was all Louis could think as the man interacted with his competitors. 'And they have absolutely no idea,'


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and comments. Love you xx

"My session with him was supposed to be over three hours ago. This is ridiculous,"

Louis sat on the dark grey sofa in the green room, listening to his competitors complain. A group of them had been waiting for their one on one session with Harry, to prepare them for the performance at the end of the week, but Harry didn't seem to want to comply with the rules set by Factor 28. And so, here Louis was with four other contestants, sitting like a lemon.

He felt slightly chilly in just his plain white t shirt and ripped jeans and was feeling restless and uncomfortable, not to mention incredibly frustrated.

He knew that Harry would probably be a useless mentor. That was a given. But he was surprised by how quickly his unprofessionalism had come out. In a way it angered him. Louis had sacrificed so much to be a musician and Harry was living his dream and didn't even seem slightly grateful.

Bitter was a good word to describe Louis's feelings towards the struggling, spoilt Rockstar.

Checking the clock, he noticed that his one-hour session was supposed to be 30 minutes ago and he rolled his eyes. The crew were awkwardly standing there, occasionally checking their own watches. The whole situation was awkward, embarrassing and wrong.

Harry Styles could not get away with this. Louis would not let him.

Standing up, he walked over to one of the production crew.

"Excuse me? Where's Harry's dressing room?" the crew member whipped her auburn hair in his direction and widened her green eyes in surprise. She was youthful and seemed unsure of the request. She was probably shocked by his boldness and turned towards other members of the crew, her eyes flitting from one to the other. They all seemed engrossed in serious conversation, and paid no attention to the two of them. She sighed and gave him hushed directions. Louis suspected that she was only an intern and was probably sympathising with him and the other contestants about their situation.

Louis listened carefully, nodding his head and making a mental note of the directions she gave. He then whispered a quiet thank you before heading out of the room.

The Factor 28 studio was dreary and depressing. As he walked down corridor after corridor, he was hit with the boring colour of grey. It was that ugly tone of grey that reflects old cement or clay infested waters. It was that grey you see in hospitals or those American high schools that looked more like prisons than places of learning. The studio seemed endless and soul sucking. Louis wondered why they chose such a sad colour and as he walked to the dressing room, he pictured light blues, greens and lilacs coating the walls. That would look much more welcoming.

Suddenly, he came to an abrupt stop outside of a door. A laminated piece of paper was stuck to it and caught his eye:

'Mr Harry Styles'.

Without a second thought, Louis swung the door open wide.

"Excuse me!"

Harry Styles moved his feet from the dressing table he was using as a foot rest and sprang up, surprised and baffled by the sudden outburst. Undeterred by this hostility, Louis came closer and slammed the door behind him. This caused Harry's brow to knot and a look of confusion was written across his face in an annoyed expression.

"What are you doing?" He gasped at the boy, who stormed into his dressing room without an explanation. Louis scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"What am I doing? What are you doing?" He challenged, eyeing the white lines freshly made, on the dressing room table and the distinct smell of cigarette smoke hanging in the air.

Brightly coloured suits littered the floor and empty bottles of whiskey lay discarded on a large oak table. The focal point of the room was a large, royal blue, crush velvet sofa coated in various sets of designer clothes, shoes and bags. Harry's dressing room was bigger (and messier) than Louis's entire house.

"I was about to light a cigarette and open another whiskey bottle. You?" The Rockstar replied sarcastically, sitting back into his chair and repositioning his feet on his dressing table.

In the dark light and setting, he looked like something out of a magazine. A slight 5 o'clock shadow was present above his swollen, plump lips and his dark, curly hair was wild and untamed like a mop on his head. His chipped nail polish caught the light and his rings make a slight noise as they clinked together. He reached into his pocket slowly and pulled out a sterling silver cigarette case. It had some sort of engraving on it but Louis couldn't make it out.

Ignoring the presence of the intruder, Harry placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it before taking a drag.

Despite the scene looking like the opening to a Martin Scorsese film, Louis was not intimidated. He moved even closer to the Rockstar and reached his hand forward. Taking the cigarette out of his mouth, he took a drag of it before narrowing his eyes at Harry, accusingly.

"Is this some sort of joke to you?" Harry looked startled by the young man's boldness and stared at the cigarette dancing and twirling in the competitor's delicate, long fingers before swallowing. For a moment, Louis could of sworn that Harry looked intimidated by _him_.

"Sorry do I know you?" He asked, seemingly genuinely confused and alarmed by the man's presence. He sat up in his chair, lifting his feet off of his dressing table. They made a loud clunk as his heavy platformed boots collided the floor a little too aggressively.

Louis shook his head, about to explain their rude encounter in the toilets and how he was supposed to be a mentor until he was interrupted.

"-Wait you're those blue eyes from the bathroom!" Harry exclaimed. His face turned from confused to threatening in an instant and he puffed his chest out in an attempt to look bigger. Louis had failed to notice just how tall and bulky the man was was until that moment. Harry had to be over 6 foot tall and he was incredibly muscular. Even bunched up in a chair, Louis could make out his distinct chest and arm muscle. "I will call security,"

Louis swallowed a little at this threat, but wasn't that bothered. He had a feeling that it was an empty one anyway.

"Do it. I dare you," He challenged, raising his eyebrows at Styles. As suspected, he did not call security. Instead he let out a loud sigh and ran a hand through his wavy hair. His rings sliced through it slowly, a clash of gold and brunette and his green eyes looked deep into Louis.

"Why are you here?" He asked in an exasperated tone. It was evident that Harry was not used to people saying no to him, and the conversation with Louis was boring and draining.

'Good' Louis secretly thought.

"To remind you of your job," He snapped, his voice a little harsher than he intended. This caused Harry's brows to raise once again. "Some of us have given up everything to get to this position and I'm not gonna let you fuck that up for us. Just do your fucking job," Clearly Harry has really riled him up and Louis was shocked by how quickly his emotions poured out. Not as shocked as the rockstar, however, who sprang from his seat to face him.

There was a good 4 inches of height difference between the two and even less in the space they were stood. Louis could feel Harry's hot breath in his hair and he swallowed slightly. Aromas of Vanilla, tobacco blossom, and mixed spices clashed with strawberries and cigarettes as their two scents mixed and Louis was a little overwhelmed by the collusion and the way the scents morphed to make an unfamiliar yet comforting feeling.

He looked up to meet Harry's eyes, blue meeting green, and they stared back, narrowed.

"Who do you think you are?!" He hissed at him, obviously not bothered by the lack of space between them. In fact, it seemed like Harry was basking in the closeness. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Louis finally stepped back a few paces, before replying.

"I'm no one and I would do anything to be where you are," He snapped, angrily. "You have no clue how lucky you are and it's disgusting that you don't use it to help people. How much are you getting paid to sit on your ass? 3 million? 4? I was raised by a single mum on a council estate in Doncaster. Where I'm from, you're more likely to end up in prison than on a six-figure salary," Louis was a little shocked at himself for revealing this much information. He'd never told anyone about his hopelessness growing up in poverty, and yet here he was, ranting to one of the most famous people on the planet about it .

He brain was telling him to stop. Harry Styles did not deserve to know any more about his life, but he couldn't help it. It was like he had word vomit.

"I've sacrificed so much. When my mum died last year, I swore I would make it. I swore that every action I did would be for the two of us. You are not going to be the reason I break that promise," Louis voice cracked at the end and he looked away. Harry flinched a little at that, and a look of guilt formed on his face. Evidently, Louis had managed to get through to him, despite all the drugs he was on.

The rockstar took a step forward and reached his hand out, as if he was going to touch Louis's arm in a comforting manner. Louis looked at him again, water brimming in his eyes. He did not move away as Harry edged closer and gasped a little at the contact. Harry's hand was cold and sent goosebumps up his tattooed- covered arm, Braille littering his pale skin.

The taller man was about to open his mouth, when a loud bang was heard and a red faced production team member stormed through the door. Harry's hand sprang away from Louis and he quickly distanced himself.

"Harry I'm so sorry! I wasn't aware you didn't want to be disturbed! Do you want me to deal with your uninvited guest?" She asked, eyeing Louis, whose tears had finally subsided. Harry let out a quiet sigh, which Louis picked up on, and he threw himself into his dressing room chair. He seemed exhausted and a little upset.

"No, it's fine, but you can both leave," He said as he rubbed his temples. The production woman nodded and swept her ginger hair out her face.

As they both left the room, Louis cleared his throat to get Harry's attention. He could hear the woman tut in annoyance but she kept quiet. The rockstar looked up and met his eyes, confused.

"Do better," he reminded him, before shutting the door. He could of sworn he heard Harry reply.

"I will,"


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave Kudos and comments!! Love youuuu

The next week was a blur for Louis. He spent everyday with a vocal coach going over a song that had been selected for him by the production team. And had constant talks with a stylist, who tried her best to convince him to dress more formally. He, of course, refused. Wearing designer suits and restrictive blazers was not Louis, nor did he plan for it to become him in the foreseeable future.

Allegedly, Harry had been on time to every appointment with the other contestants, and whilst Louis was a little bitter that he had not had the opportunity, he was glad that the rockstar was finally doing his job.

It probably wouldn't last.

All of that prep had led up to this moment. He was about to perform in front of all his competitors, and his 'mentor'. He knew that this would determine the rest of his life but he could not help but feel as though he had already destroyed it with his temper and brashness towards Harry.

Straight after leaving the dressing room that day, he had felt pretty pleased with himself. He'd stood up for his follow contestants and knocked Mr Harry Styles down a peg or two. But after a week of reflecting, he'd come to the conclusion that interrupting his mentor had probably been a career-ending mistake.

Louis had debated telling Ashe about the encounter. She was closely becoming what he would deem a friend and throughout the week they had gossiped about almost everything, but this thing with Harry felt private. He was embarrassed that his temper had ruined his chance and he did not want her seeing him in a different light.

Trying to shake the negativity out of his mind, Louis recited the advice his vocal coach had given him. 'relax, don't force the notes, have a good time'. It was all quite simple really, but was so much harder when his whole life rode on this performance.

Or it would have done, if he hadn't burst into Harry's dressing room and taken a drag of his cigarette. Why had he even done that? It was so extra and unnecessary. And then to bring up his mum? He cringed at the thought. There was no chance that the arrogant, spoilt rockstar was going to allow someone as gobby as Louis be a part of his team.

Taking a swig of his water, Louis closed his eyes and tried to think of something else, anything else. But be could not get it out of his mind. He had blown his chances, by letting someone as annoying as Harry Styles under his skin. He tried to blame his Donny rudeness but the truth was, Louis had this inability to take shit from anyone, no matter who they were. This problem had had him suspended from school twice and barred from several pubs in Yorkshire.

"Louis Tomlinson?" The production assistant called out his name and he swallowed, unbuttoning the top button of his Brown Fred Perry polo shirt and brushing the loose strands of hair out of his face.

He walked onto the stage, anxiety coursing through his bones. All of his competitors stared back at him, blank expressions on their faces but his attention wasn't on them. It was on Styles.

The star wore a bright yellow tux and white jabot shirt, his hair cascading down his face, slightly covering his eyes. But Louis did not notice that. All he saw was the knowing smirk, raised eyebrows and folded arms.

It was at this moment Louis knew.

He was not getting through this round.

Catfish and the Bottleman's 7 started blaring through the speakers and he had to make a decision. He could put no effort into this performance; it was pointless anyway. Or he could put on a show. Leave with his head held high. In that moment he chose to go for the latter.

Closing his eyes, he let the lyrics flow out. It was like they were second nature to him, another language that he could speak fluently.

"Larry, call a load of smoke in I wanna lose a couple days. We've probably never struggled coping but I never want to," He could hear a few surprised gasps from the audience and he tried to hide his smirk at the positive response to his voice. It was a sound that he had grown accustomed to over the years, and it always made his heart skip a beat.

The guitars became heavier and his body began to move to the beat of the melody.

"Promise again that I would call her. Forget the time 'cause I'm seven hours behind. It's probably good I didn't call, though,"

Louis leaned right into the mic, taking it into his small, dainty hands and made direct eye contact with Harry. "But I always want to,"

He could hear members of the audience clapping, and one of the girls wolf-whistling (he suspected Ashe had been behind that). Playing into the audience, he also raised his arms to clap along, lifting them high above his head, like a professional rock singer would.

"And I'd beg you, But you know I'm never home. And I love you but I need another year alone. And I've tried to ignore it every time you phone, but I never come close," Harry just stared, his expression completely unreadable. He continued to fidget in his chair, his eyes never leaving Louis's. In a strange way, it was oddly comforting to have him watching in such an intense way. At least he was paying attention.

"And I don't think through things, I never get time, 'Cause I don't think things through," Louis finished the song with a light, quiet voice. It was almost a whisper, or a moan. Something which clearly took the rockstar off guard and he raised his eyebrow, before adjusting in his seat and clearing his throat.

The small audience erupted in applause and people at the back whistled at him. He smiled and took a small bow before turning to look at Harry again. The man had a strange expression on his face. He seemed to be contemplating something, but Louis could not be sure. He noted that the star did not clap for him or praise him in any way. He simply turned to look down at his notes and scribbled something down.

Louis was at a loss for words. Even if he was not going through, which was pretty obvious by this point, the least the star could do was give him some advice or praise. But yet again, he had to remind himself that this was THE Harry Styles. He did not exactly take his job seriously.

Despite the lack of communication from his mentor, he left the stage with his head held high. He knew that it was the best performance he'd ever put on and he enjoyed it. This would certainly be a learning curve for him, even if (or when) he was unsuccessful.

The rest of the performances went past in a blur for Louis and if he was being honest with himself, he not been paying attention to them at all. His eyesight never wavered from the curly haired boy with the chipped nail varnish who occasionally took a sip of water from a glass, before picking up his pen and making more notes. Louis watched his lips meet the glass and swallowed. They were a chapped, deep lustrous red that reminded him of a rose bud. The top lip was thinner, but not too thin, and it had a natural cupid's bow; the bottom one was larger and more plush. He continued to stare at them when he bit he pencil in concentration, drank from his glass, and when he randomly applied lip balm. If he didn't know the stars' true personality, he could almost label him as beautiful. Unfortunately, he was all too aware of his diva antics and horrendous attitude problem.

Once the auditions had ended, Harry left the room with his notebook and what looked to be his assistant. Louis wondered what it would be like to work for such a high maintenance man. He imagined that it was incredibly challenging and demanding. Harry was probably a nightmare employer. The tabloids certainly agreed. At least that's what he told himself as he tried to ignore the fact that the two shared some inside joke as they left the room.

Harry's laughter had bounced off the walls and ricocheted into his ears. It sounded like summer rain and birdsong, and somehow lifted a veil from his eyes, revealing a younger, less hagged star. It's funny how laughter could change an appearance so much.

"Ok everyone, get on stage," Louis was drawn from his thoughts by a loud production crew member who was yelling into a megaphone. The sudden noise made him jump and he heard a small chuckle from behind him. He turned to see Ashe giving him a knowing smirk. He smiled back, before following the rest of the crowd to the stage. The crew member shouted again, this time more annoyed.

"Harry is going to announce the top four. Quickly please. We don't have all day," At this news, the crowd turned into a stampede and it soon became organised chaos, with people bundling together on the stage. Ashe managed to sneak next to him and grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Good luck," She whispered under her breath and he squeezed back as if to say 'you too'.

"Are the camera's rolling?," The scary man with the megaphone then yelled. There were some unenthusiastic yeses in return and he gave them a thumbs up.

"Ok enter James and Harry,"

The man sauntered in, like a cat ready to toy with a mouse. His intense gaze scanned the group as he moved towards his checkmark. Louis swallowed, feeling intimidated once again by Mr Harry Styles. It was as though the star could sense he was uncomfortable and sent a crooked, scheming smile his way. Louis did his best not to react, and turned his attention to James. He was, of course, oblivious to the energy that Harry had created by walking into the room and he seemed excited to get back to presenting. His short, plump body was framed by a navy blue suit which made him look very professional, a far cry from the actor on Gavin and Stacey.

"Hi everyone and welcome back to Factor 28," James said to the camera, enthusiastically, once the two had hit their mark.

"Before the break, we saw our contestants give the performance of their lives in a bid to impress Mr Harry Styles. Harry how do you think it went?"

The star looked bored and unimpressed, and was rubbing aggressively at his nose and Sniffing a lot. Louis could not help but pick up on his trembling hands and diluted pupils yet again. Did no one else notice?

"Some were good. Some were not. I mean, for me, it wasn't really a hard decision. Some people just have it, ya know?" Harry turned to look at Louis again. He was absolutely, unequivocally gloating. He was making sure that Louis knew he was not getting a place.

He didn't have it. Oblivious once again to the tension between the two, James continued to talk

"No I don't really know but luckily you're the expert and I'm just the presenter," Harry pulled his eye-line away from the boy from Doncaster and looked at James, annoyed.

"Yes you are," He snapped. James frowned at the sudden outburst and blushed slightly. He turned to look at the crew, red-faced and one of them sighed.

"We'll have to cut that out, carry on," A woman with a headset mumbled and James nodded, turning sheepishly to Styles who had a bored expression on his face, again.

"So are you ready to announce your top four," James asked, trying to be enthusiastic, despite the fact that he was clearly shaken by Harry's fickle mood.

"I am, and before I do, I just want you all to know that you did so well and you should be proud of how far you have come," Harry's personality changed like a switch and he shone a dazzling smile at the camera before turning to the contestants. Around him, Louis heard small gasps as they all tried to take in his beauty. He fought the urge to roll his eyes.

He had never seen a smile so fake and sad.

This was all a show.

Harry did not mean any of what he was saying. Louis could tell. He was dead behind the eyes. Harry Styles would rather be anywhere but there.

"Ok without further ado, in no particular order who is the first contestant that will be going to the live shows," James asked, clapping Harry's shoulder. Louis watched his smile falter slightly and he glanced Louis's way.

"Ashe," He said, his voice barely audible. It was clearly heard by the blonde bombshell, however, who squealed and grabbed Louis, hugging him tight. He closed his eyes and embraced her, happy for his friend. If he was being honest, he hadn't actually paid attention during her performance. His thoughts infiltrated by the rockstar 'mentor' but she had received a massive applause so he assumed her performance had been incredible.

"Oh my god! I can't believe this. Thank you so much!" She gasped, pulling away from Louis and running towards James and Harry. His sea green eyes still hadn't left Louis's and he swore there was a flash of envy in them.

After Ashe, Harry announced two other contestants, both of which squealed and hugged everyone, and Louis felt more and more nervous. This really was it. He was going home.

"Harry Styles," James Corden said, wrapping an arm around Harry.

"James Corden," He replied, earning a few chuckles from the contestants. This time, Louis did roll his eyes. His response gained an odd glance from Ashe, who was lined up with the other finalists. He just shrugged his shoulders, as if to say 'i didn't find it funny'. She shot him a suspicious glance but looked away from him and back to her mentor and the plump presenter.

"Could you please reveal the name of the last contestant," James asked and Harry nodded and swallowed.

"This was a really tough one but it's a risk I think will pay off," Harry said, as if he was trying to convince himself of the decision. Louis readied his hands to clap for the lucky contestant when suddenly the whole room started spinning and his world turned upside down.

In that deep, husky voice, Harry announced the last finalist: "Louis Tomlinson,"

"Sorry what?" Louis blurted out, unable to quite believe what he had heard. The reaction led to a few giggles from some of his competitors and some bitter tuts from others. Louis could not quite believe what he had heard. Before he could really let it sink in, he was shoved towards James and Harry at the front of the stage.

"Louis, how are you feeling?" James asked, forcing his mic into Louis's face. He froze for a second. How did he feel? He wasn't quite sure, to be honest. Grateful but...

"Um, a little confused for a few reasons," He answered, lightly chuckling. Harry sent him a knowing gaze and he stared back at the man, unable to quite believe he had actually put him through.

"What reasons would that be?" James smiled. Louis opened his mouth to respond when...

"Just reasons," Harry interrupted, before grabbing Louis's arm rather roughly and placing him with the other finalists.

"Ow," He hissed under his breath and Harry snorted, his hand lingering on Louis's body for a little longer than necessary. He shot him a nasty glare and the rockstar rolled his eyes.

The room seemed to buzz as Louis stood in that line of finalists. His senses were dialled up to eleven and he saw everything with a new perspective. He wondered if this was what fate felt like. Perhaps the universe was sending him a sign. Laughter was louder, the artificial lighting was brighter and Harry was... well... still Harry. At least that view hadn't changed. Ashe's hand was firmly in his and every so often he squeezed it to ensure he was not actually dreaming.

Louis Tomlinson was going through to the live shows. Little Louis from Doncaster was actually going to perform on live television in front of millions of people. His mum was looking down, beaming with pride.

Soon enough, the filming session was over and the unsuccessful competitors began to filter out of the room. Without them there, the room seemed so much bigger and echoed even more than before. It reminded Louis that he was still a little fish in a very big pond. A little fish that could easily be swallowed up by bigger fish or even worst, a shark.

Speaking of Sharks, Harry approached him, swimming through the production crew, eying him like prey. Louis debated whether or not to stand there and wait for him, but decided, against his better judgement to turn on his heel and walk in the other direction. For the first time in a while, Louis was happy and Harry Styles was not about to ruin that for him.

His little feet moved quickly and he headed for an exit, not really caring where it led. But like a little fish swimming away from a big shark, he found himself trapped all too quickly. As he went to open the door with the sign 'fire exit' above it, a hand shot in front of his body, blocking him for opening it. He sighed. Clearly his short legs had not moved fast enough.

"Louis we need to talk," Harry whispered into his ear, trapping him between his body and the door. "Meet me in my dressing room. I just need to thank the crew,"


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Hope you enjoy x

Louis waited impatiently for the star to appear in his dressing room. He had made himself comfortable on Harry's obnoxiously over-the-top vanity chair, leaning his feet up against the desk, as Harry had done the first time they had interacted in the room. Traces of white powder were still visible on its surface and the smell of cigarettes hung in the air like a broken Christmas ornament. Memories of what was once a talented young man, destroyed by fame and drugs.

Against his better judgement, Louis began nosying around the desk and through the star's polaroid pictures stuck on his dirty mirror, identifying singers and actors alike.

A small group photo stuck out to him. It was the only photo where Harry was smiling genuinely, like he had with his assistant. Two men were with him, both famous singers.

Zayn Malik and Liam Payne.

Louis had always assumed that the friendship between the three of them had been for publicity but this photo told a different story. It has to be at least 5 years old. They were squished on some type of sofa and Harry had his arms around the both of them. The picture had been captured mid laugh and all of them had glints in their eyes and wide smiles on their faces. They looked like normal teenage boys. It was hard to imagine Harry hanging out like a regular person. Did he go to the pub and order a pint? Did he talk footy with the lads? The thought made Louis vocally snort.

Another photo or lack of, you could say, that Louis picked up on was the absence of Taylor. She was his wife, yet he had absolutely nothing that indicated her presence. He found it extremely odd, but tried not to overanalyse it. Why did he care anyway?

Before he could investigate any of the other photos stuck carelessly on Harry's mirror, the rockstar burst through the door and chucked his blazer. He had probably been aiming for the sofa but the jacket landed in a heap on the floor, making an uncomfortably loud sound as the buttons collided with the cold concrete.

"So why as his royal highness requested my presence?" Loui asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Harry's eyes ran over his body and his eyebrow raised at Louis's feet carelessly thrown across his desk: his scuffed, dirty white shoes contrasting with the dark, expensive mahogany.

"For this exact reason," Harry snapped and Louis removed his feet from the desk, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere. He felt tense and uncomfortable, especially as he watched Harry continue to drink him in, his eyes raking over his face and body.

"I don't know who you think you are but this rude backchat needs to stop," Harry stepped closer to the desk and Louis suddenly felt very small, but he was not about to let this man's attempts of scaring him work.

Harry Styles deserved to be knocked down a peg or two.

"Why should it?" He retorted, feeling very much like a child on a school playground. The immature reply earned a warranted snort from the rockstar and Louis felt his face heat up slightly.

"Because it pisses me off, that's why," Once again Harry's mood flipped and his smirk morphed into a snarl. His hands ran through his hair; gold rings clashing with dark chestnut strands.

"If I piss you off so much, why did you put me through?" Louis challenged, crossing his arms in disbelief at the man's idiocy and hypocritical behaviour. Surely he could not be for real?

Harry let out a frustrated groan and the hand that had been softly combing through his hair began to pull tightly, tugging on the delicate, deep brunette strands.

He looked annoyed.

He was annoyed.

"Because as much I hate to say it, you have talent and you have a strong drive for success. You're gonna need that," Louis raised his eyebrow at the compliment, a gesture that did not go unnoticed and Harry added in a rush:

"What you're not gonna need is that attitude," There it was. The return of the infamous Styles. The one who knew exactly how to get under Louis's skin. The boy could not believe what he had just heard. He snorted at the hypocrisy of it all.

"Are you seriously suggesting that I have an attitude problem? Love, you need to look in a mirror," He scoffed, tilting his head back dramatically, his body still spawned haphazardly on the vanity chair.

He was mocking him and the star knew it.

"will you just be quiet?" Harry all but growled, his eyes an angry glow. In the dim lighting, they looked almost yellow and wolf-like.

A predator.

But Louis Tomlinson was not going to be prey. Not today.

He stood up from the chair and moved closer to Styles, trying to seem bigger than he was. His chest was puffed out and his eyes were on the rockstar, daring and dangerous. He was ready to unleash hell.

"No, you need a reality check. You're not special just because you sold a few records and arenas. you're gonna wreck your life with drugs and alcohol within a few years," He pointed a finger at the star, accusingly, before tilting his head to the vanity desk which still had remnants of white powder coating it.

Harry seemed a little taken aback by that and a flash of genuine hurt washed across his face before it was replaced by candescent rage. If fury was personified, it would be Harry Styles in that moment. The star's fists clenched and he moved closer to Louis until they were chest to chest.

"Take that back right now, you little shit," He hissed, like a snake ready to spit venom, fangs on show.

"No," Louis replied back stubbornly, meeting Harry's eyes with his own blue ones.

It was a clash of a green forest and deep ocean; something that shouldn't meet according to nature. It was wrong but Louis was engulfed by the trees, drowning in their thick branches. His waves unable to penetrate their strong trunks and dense foliage. Yet still he pushed on, the tide coming in. 

"I swear to god, if you don't stop, I'll-" Harry's eyes darted up and down at Louis, looking at his face, searching for an answer to finish his sentence, but he seemed lost for words. That was a surprise.

"You'll what? I can't wait to hear this," Louis scoffed, still not recognising just how close the two of them were. Their noses were now practically touching.

"I'll shut you up myself," Harry whispered.

"Oh please you're all bark and no bite I-" The next thing Louis knew, Harry had slammed his lips against his and nearly knocked all wind from his lungs. The swirls of emotion Louis felt made him gasp. Lust and desire were swimming through the hot, thick atmosphere.

It was a tsunami, destroying the once calm ocean and demolishing the once strong forest.

They were both utterly helpless.

He hardly had a moment to react before Harry pressed his tongue to the seam of his lips and delved inside his mouth. It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of peppermint and tobacco being exchanged in the intermingling of their billowing breaths. The kiss obliterated every thought of anger towards the rockstar and replaced them with a need to be close. Drunk on endorphins, Louis's arms reached up and tangled around Harry's thick, strong neck. The star groaned at the new, intense feeling of contact and detached his lips from Louis's. The smaller man began to protest when he felt a hot breath on his neck. Then the tender brush of lips. A large, ringed hand ran through Louis's messy hair, as the kisses became harder and more urgent, whilst another hand slid around his waist, pulling him even closer to Harry's rich, distinct scent. Louis gasped at the coldness of the metal on his bare skin, goosebumps rising and hairs standing on end. The kisses then moved to Louis's shoulder and hair, erratic and desperate. Louis's neck burnt and he would probably have a hickey but he wasn't thinking about that. All he could concentrate on was the need for contact and skin on skin.

Harry seemed to have the same idea and pulled away from Louis before sinking to his knees.

From this angle, he looked so innocent and angelic, his big doe eyes waiting expectantly for Louis to give him the go ahead. It was hard to believe that this was the same man who Louis had met in the bathroom, the same man with a Holland Tunnel for a nose, who downed whiskey like water and turned up late. He swore that his large hands were shaking as he reached up to Louis's belt and began to undo the button, slowly and nervously.

Louis closed his eyes and gripped the table, allowing himself to be lost in this unfamiliar feeling of nothingness and desire, all mixed up in blissful harmony.


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy!! Don't forget to comment and leave kudos <3

There was an awkward silence shared between the two as Louis hastily zipped up his fly and Harry got off his knees, wiping his plump, pink lips.

He lay on the plush, dark blue sofa, his normally perfectly gelled hair cascading down his face in a mess of curls and sweat. He wore a smug grin and his unbuttoned shirt clung to his damp, glowing skin. It was slightly transparent and Louis could not help but look at the various tattoos littering his otherwise pristine muscles. In the dark, mood lighting, he looked like a Gucci model, posing like the cat who just got the cream. How ironic.

The room stank of sex and perspirant and the air was hot and heavy. It sat as a reminder of what had just happened.

Harry Edward Styles had just given Louis Tomlinson a blowjob.

A blowjob!

Louis tried to retrace how exactly it had happened. He'd been teasing the rockstar, baiting him, when it took a dark turn and then Harry got angry. That's when it became a blur. One minute they were at a stand off and the next Harry was on his knees, practically begging for it, with big doe eyes.

"This can't happen again," Louis muttered as he ran his fingers through his damp, sweaty hair. He was trying not to think of Harry's strong, thick hands raking through it previously, pulling and gripping hard. He shivered slightly at the memory and swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bopping up and down. The star sat up from the sofa and tilted his head in confusion.

"Why? Did I do something wrong? I've never had an unhappy customer," He scoffed.

So he'd done this before. It did not surprise Louis to be honest. No first timer would be able to do what Harry had done with his mouth. He shook his head as if to shake the memory away. It didn't work.

"No Harry, you're my mentor. This shouldn't have happened," Louis sighed as he placed his head in his hands and took a seat on Harry's vanity desk chair. To say he was frustrated and embarrassed would be an understatement. "I don't even know why it happened. What was I thinking?" He groaned. Harry seemed to perk up at that sound, as if it has awoken a memory.

Louis did not want to know.

The rockstar smirked and leant back into the soft blue sofa, gluttony and pride spread across his pretty face. His arms were spread wide, as if he was welcoming a new friend. Louis fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Don't worry it's not your fault that I'm irresistible," Arrogance oozed off of him and Louis physically gagged, disgusted with the man's attitude towards the situation.

"You're insufferable," He said, grimly, his eyes narrowing in on Harry's extremely messy hair. Despite his repulsion to the situation, he could not help but think 'i did that'. A flush crept up his neck and he ducked his head to hide his reddened face. The mentor seemed indifferent to the insult and snorted.

"Aw come on," He smirked, slowly lifting himself off the couch. He looked at Louis like a meal as he approached, stalking him.

"You weren't complaining when you were moaning my name as you-"

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence," Louis exclaimed, jumping up from the chair and moving backwards until he hit the wall. He swallowed and Harry's eyes fell on his Adam's apple. The rockstar licked his lips and moved ever closer. His eyes fell to the mark on Louis's neck.

The hickey.

Louis cursed Harry for marking him like that.

"Well, for someone so annoying and unbearable, you are a pretty good-" As Harry's hand landed on the wall, next to Louis's head, his door burst wide open and a rather red faced assistant came in, holding a mobile phone. His eyes widened as he saw the two in such a compromising position and his mouth fell open like a fish.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Harry, Simon is on the phone," The star stepped away from Louis with a gentle sigh. His eyes never left his neck. He was sure that the star was still eyeing the hickey he'd given him.

"Shit ok, duty calls," He said with a wink before leaving the room. 

Louis leaned against the cold wall, breathless and a little afraid. What had he just done?

In his short but eventual life, Louis had done a lot a stuff that he had regretted. He'd slept with teachers for good grades, done various drugs at parties. Hell, he lost his virginity to a 40 year old man that he met over the Internet at age 15.

He hadn't exactly been an angel.

This was on the top of the list though. He struggled to even comprehend what he had just done. This was his career over. Harry could not keep him around after that.

Did Louis even want to be around?

His head was a mess and he was so confused and embarrassed. Despite all that, however, he couldn't help but think back to Harry's soft lips on him. He was surprisingly gentle. Desperate and needy yes, but never aggressive. The thought caused Louis to let out a small whimper. One that he quickly stifled.

Harry Styles was trouble. The sooner he learnt that, the better.

—   
  


Louis Tomlinson lay on an unfamiliar bed, staring at the forgotten ceiling. He'd been at the hotel for several hours now and hadn't moved a muscle. He seemed rooted to the plush, linen sheets that tickled his soft skin. His phone had rung a few times but he couldn't bring himself to answer it. It probably wasn't important anyway.

The longer Louis stared at the ceiling, the more he began to notice its small imperfections. There was a small yellow mark just above his head, perhaps damage from a champagne bottle bursting? And every so often, a small dark crack would interrupt the otherwise pristine white paint. He wondered if he would have noticed these if he hadn't paid attention. How many people actually paid attention to a ceiling? How many would stare at one for hours on end?

"Not many", he concluded, his whispering voice breaking the eery silence in the empty room.

His phone seemed to hear this and began to spring into life again: its harsh ringtone piercing through Louis's peaceful surroundings.

He sighed. He needed to answer it.

"Loubear! How did it go?" Louis tensed and pulled his phone away from his ear to dull the screeching on the other end. He imagined his crazy Irish best friend jumping up and down as he wailed into the speaker, his long blonde hair bouncing in rhythm.

"It went well, Ni. I got through," He replied, trying to sound enthusiastic. He'd never been a good liar, and his voice was dripping with doubt and cracked on the last word.

"Oh my god Lou! That's amazing! Why aren't you happy?" Louis sighed, leaning back onto the soft mattress, its all-encompassing flowery scent clogging up his nostrils.

"I am Niall. I promise I just-" He paused for a moment. Surely he could not tell him could he? That could get him into all kinds of trouble. But then again, they told each other everything and Louis could never lie to him.

"I did something really stupid,"

Silence rang out on the other end of the line and Louis could just about make out the quiet, gentle breaths of Niall, as he processed the information. He could almost hear the clogs turning in the Irish man's brain before he finally cleared his throat.

'Lou, what did you do?" He asked cautiously. There was a sense of unease and nervousness in his voice.

The boy from Doncaster began to pick at a loose thread of cotton in the duvet cover, trying work out how he could articulate what had happened.

"It's bad, really bad," He admitted. Niall's breath hitched over the phone.

"How bad?" He asked, now clearly concerned. Louis pictured his worried face, brows creased and a slight frown present on his lips. He was probably slouching over the kitchen table with his head resting on one of his hands.

Guilt seeped into Louis's veins.

"Really, really bad Ni. I've screwed up big time," He began to pull harder at the thread which came loose, wrapping itself around his finger like a hook trapping a fish. Yet again, Louis was prey, and caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Louis Tomlinson. You better explain yourself right now," Niall snapped on the other end of the phone, growing increasingly annoyed by Louis's ambiguity.

"I kissed my mentor," Louis blurted out, sitting up. The thread detangled itself from his dainty soft fingers and fell to the floor like a feather. He watched as it settled to the carpet. In the silence of the room and on the line, he swore he heard it land with a quiet thud.

Eventually, Niall broke the silence, a little shocked and confused by Louis's admission.

"You mean Harry Styles?!" He gasped, unsure of his own words.

"Yes I mean Harry Styles," Louis nodded before remembering his friend couldn't see him.

This earned a scoff from Niall and he could visualise him shaking his head in disbelief and disapproval.

"I thought you hated him," He sighed, clearly done with Louis's actions, and he had every right to be.

Since Niall moved from Ireland to Doncaster three years ago, he had been Louis's number one cheerleader, and to have him admit to basically throwing away his career with a kiss, was probably extremely frustrating.

"I did, I do, I don't know what happened. One minute we were arguing and the next he was on his knees,"

"Sorry what? Why was he on his knees? I thought you said you kissed?" Louis flushed, realising he'd released too much information.

Niall sounded absolutely horrified. Despite the embarrassment, Louis figured it would be best to just rip the band-aid off.

"Yeah. We did and then he blew me," He replied bluntly, trying to keep emotion out of his voice. He toed the white thread on the floor, watching as it moved and bent with his feet: a fine line standing out against the dark carpet.

"Louis what the fuck?!" Niall screamed on the other end of the phone. Louis removed the mobile from his ear, wincing as the sound pierced through his brain. He knew that Niall's reaction would be extreme but he was not expecting this.

"I know, I know. It's bad," He admitted, a little ashamed of his actions. This was going to be a serious problem.

"Louis he's straight and married," Niall said, calming down a little. Louis swallowed and his eyes widened.

If he was being perfectly honest, he'd forgotten all about the blonde bombshell megastar. Taylor did not even cross his mind, even when Harry's wedding ring caressed his pale skin and goosebumps appeared on his waist like braille. It was at this moment he realised that he was an awful person. Despite that, however, he could help but think about the other statement.

Was Harry straight? He couldn't be. The way he had kissed Louis suggested familiarity and reassurance. A straight man would not kiss another man like that. A straight man wouldn't kiss another man full-stop.

"I can assure you that he is not straight. He was far too comfortable with me and his mouth-," Niall interrupted before Louis could go into more detail.

"He's still married!" He gasped.

Louis groaned, looking back at the ceiling, concentrating on one of the dark cracks that resembled a tiny 28. He smiled a little at that, debating whether not it was the right time to take a picture.

It probably wasn't.

In fact, it definitely wasn't.

He leaned back into the phone, eventually answering his friend.

"Yes, Niall I know. He kissed me ok?! I don't know what happened!" He admitted. It was not a lie. His encounter with the rockstar had been a blur that had left him speechless and baffled. Confusion riddled in his brain and the thought of what they did made his hands clammy and his head spin.

"Surely that's some sort of breach of contract. He could be taking advantage. You should tell someone," Niall said, trying to be practical. Deep down Louis knew he was right but:

"No!" He objected, desperation and panic drenching his shaky voice. "I mean... I don't want to detract from the show. It'll be all over the press," He said, quickly trying to cover up his mini outburst. Niall seemed to buy it and he could hear him hum over the phone.

"And they'll paint you out to be the bad guy," He added, something which Louis had not thought about. Would people call him a home wrecker? Was he a home wrecker? No. Home wreckers ruined relationships. He hadn't ruined Haylor's relationship... yet.

"So what are you gonna do?" Niall asked, genuinely interested in Louis's thought process. Unfortunately, he was not going to learn much.

"Honestly? I don't know. Ignore him?" He admitted, as he brought his feet back onto the bed. The pair rested on the soft mattress, his toes curling into the fabric.

"Ok that sounds like a plan but how easy is that gonna be?"

"Not very, to be honest. We've got a month until the live shows, but we move into his house in a few days," Louis sighed. He had not actually thought that far ahead and had forgotten about those rules in the craziness of everything. He was fucked.

"You're gonna be living in his house?!" Niall seemed to agree with him. He was well and truly, royally fucked.

"Yes, Niall. We've just established that," He said, trying to remain calm. Hearing the words from someone else panicked him and Niall was stressing him out enough anyway.

"OMG what if Taylor is there? You gonna be his Monica Lewinsky?" The Irishman chuckled. Louis rolled his eyes at the joke.

It had taken his friend all of two minutes to get over the fact that Louis had had sexual relations with one of the most famous people on the planet, and he was already cracking jokes about the situation. This was one of the reasons why he loved Niall, but also one of the reasons why he despised him at times.

"No, Niall. I won't be. And I doubt she'll be there anyway," He shrugged, trying to remain neutral. There was a small part of his brain that hoped it to be true, but he would not admit that. The Donny boy was purely using logic, and not letting his non-existent emotions guide him.

"Why?" Niall asked, confused at the statement.

"I'm not sure. I got a weird vibe about their relationship," Louis thought back to those Polaroid photos on Harry's mirror and the lack of his wife. Not to mention the fact that he seemed to have absolutely no regrets about kissing Louis.

"Wishful thinking?" Niall laughed, his distinctive giggle making Louis smile, despite the joke being at his expense.

"Right I'm hanging up now," He joked and Niall chuckled even more.

"Aww I'm sorry mate I'm only teasing. Congrats on getting through you deserved it!" He said, laughter dying down a bit. Louis smiled and looked up at the ceiling again. It felt good to hear his best friend say that.

"Thanks Ni. Any other words of wisdom?" He asked, a grin plastered across his face.

"get that head, get that bread and leave," Niall replied, putting on an American accent. Louis rolled his eyes at the Tiktok reference. His friend was becoming far too obsessed with that app.

"been there, done that!" He replied, sassily, which earned another chuckle from Niall. "I'll see you soon!"

"Ok mate. I love youuuuuu," Niall sang into the phone before hanging up.

Once the line went dead, Louis sighed. Despite the jokes that had been made between them, he knew that he was in major trouble. 

Louis Tomlinson was in far too deep with Harry Styles. And Harry Styles so happened to be a married mega rockstar with a drug and attitude problem. And Louis was going to be living with him.


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!! Please leave me a comment if you want as well <3

The moment had finally arrived. Today would be the day that Louis moved into his new home for (hopefully) the next few months. To say he was nervous would be the understatement of the century. The past few days had consisted of mad packing, sleepless nights and constant overthinking. He could not get the interaction with Harry out of his head and he was not looking forward to seeing the star again. He wondered if Harry had dealt with similar, overwhelming and crushing feelings of guilt in his stomach. Guilt that consumed every thought and action, guilt that caused him to almost quit.

Probably Not.

Louis had the sense that most things did not affect Harry. He seemed a little psychotic in some ways, and definitely crazy.

Crazy, drugged up and happy to share spit and other things with Louis. What could go wrong?

Louis was pulled from his overly imaginative thoughts by Ashe who was seated next to him on the coach. The other contestants had refused to sit near them, both needing 'absolute zen'. Bullshit is what Louis made of their performative stunts, but kept his mouth shut.

"Look," She gasped, quietly. Her eyes were wide and entranced by the sight in front of her. Louis turned and followed her eye-line.

Nestled deep in the cold countryside was a beautiful Tudor-inspired stately home surrounded by immaculate formal gardens. The home was a red brick with off-white gables that featured exposed dark wood, contrasting the brightness of the fresh paint. Several plant- dotted balconies were visible and large rectangle windows reflected the grey sky. Huge, decadent French doors were the focal point of the property and a welcoming light shone from the oval window just above them. The house would not look out of place in a period drama or film.

Louis had had a lot of expectations for what Harry's house was going to look like. He'd imagined a large, modern, ugly build that felt cold and unwelcoming. This manor was anything but cold. It seemed to shine in the dullness of its surroundings and possessed its own personality.

Ashe squealed slightly and squeezed his hand. He chuckled at her child-like eagerness, but could not help his own excitement. This house was definitely big enough to avoid the crazy rockstar.

As the coach moved closer, Louis began to make out more details. The drive finished in front of the door and spread wide, circling an ornate fish fountain. The sculpture looked comical and Louis chuckled at the cartoonish expression carved onto the poor fish's face. He looked almost crosseyed and shocked as water poured out of his mouth. He wondered if it had been done for comedic purposes, or if it was 'art' he did not understand. He suspected the latter.

Two beautiful classic cars were parked just outside of the door. The first was a 1960s Mercedes Benz in pristine condition. It was a bright white classy convertible and somehow seemed to slot perfectly into the feel of the home. Louis pictured himself inside the vehicle with the roof down and The Rolling Stones blasting through the speakers as he weaved through country lanes on a hot summer's day. The car emulated nostalgia and he fought the urge to jump out of the coach and take a closer look. Louis was not a car person, but something about this vehicle felt homely.

Beside the flashy and retro Mercedes was a glamorous red Jaguar E-type that was straight out of a classic bond film. It oozed cool and eccentricity.

Louis had pictured Harry with flashy modern sporty cars, but this red Jaguar made so much sense. She was the rockstar down to a T. She grabbed attention and screamed for you to look at her. Something about her shouted "I'm cocky and arrogant". Perfect for Mr Styles.

Having been so preoccupied by the two classic cars, Louis had failed to notice that the coach had actually pulled up and his other competitors were spilling out, looking just as excited as him. Quickly shaking his head, Louis managed to get his bearings and climbed out of the cramped and stuffy bus. Once on the ground, he could truly take the building in. It really was breathtaking. Almost as breathtaking as the man who pushed open the large French doors and exited the house with undeniable swagger.

Harry Edward Styles.

A smile was plastered on his angelic face, but Louis could tell it was all a facade. Pupils the size of the moon and shaking hands gave it away. Yet again, Harry was high. Not only that, but there was the absence of a wedding ring on his left hand.

"Good evening, my beautiful people," He cheered, his voice a little too chipper. It made Louis wince and he refused to meet the rockstar's eye. "Welcome to my home. Well, one of them. I've got one in LA, New York, Paris and Rome," Louis rolled his eyes.

"Of course you fucking do," He mumbled under his breath. He thought he was relatively quiet but the look he gained from Ashe said otherwise. He shrugged her off and continued to look anywhere but at the star.

"During your stay, I want you to be comfortable, so don't hesitate to find me," Once again, Louis made a noise of disgust. Harry Styles offering to help people? He felt Harry's eyes land on him and he turned a deep shade of red. He obviously heard him.

"I can be very generous if you ask nicely enough,"

"I'll have my staff take your bags in. Follow me," Harry snapped his finger and two men dressed in black tails came bundling out of the house as if there had been a fire. They began to collect the bags, attempting to lift them but were clearly struggling. Louis eyed the rockstar as he watched them, smirking.

"we're more than capable of carrying our own stuff. We don't need slaves," He snapped, politely moving one of the staff out of the way so he could grab his own bag. The young boy, dressed in formalwear, looked at him gratefully. His honey eyes bore into his own blue ones and he smiled shyly. Louis returned the smile and the boy blushed. His dandy-like appearance looked even younger as he stared at the floor, slightly embarrassed. Louis definitely thought he was cute.

Harry, who was witnessing the silent exchange cleared his throat, annoyed.

"They're not slaves, they're staff," He snapped. Louis pulled his gaze away from the honey and back to the deep, dense forest. Harry had placed a hand on his hip and was glaring at his employee, anger and rapture burning in his pupils. Out of the corner of his eye, Louis saw the boy cower and he moved slightly to stand in front of him.

"Aren't they one and the same for you?" He challenged the star. The response earned a few gasps from his fellow contestants and even Harry was surprised by his boldness, but today was not the day to annoy Louis. He had not slept in days, worrying about his past actions, all thanks to the troubled rockstar.

"Very funny Mr Tomlinson," Harry seemed to come out of his shocked trance and played Louis's rudeness off as banter. He then turned to the rest of the group.

"I'm going to give you all a tour of the house. You can leave the bag, Louis. I do not pay my staff to simply flirt,"

Louis rolled his eyes but dropped the bag. He ensured it made a sufficient clunk as it landed, emphasising his uncomfortableness and disapproval at the situation.

"What the hell was that?" Ashe hissed as they made their way through the French doors and into a large open plan living area.

"What? He was being rude to the staff," Louis replied, his eyes scanning the surroundings. Once again, he was pleasantly surprised by Harry's abode.

There was something very homely about the house. A large iron log burner sat to the left of the large open plan living room. On the mantle place, pictures in eclectic frames stood haphazardly along with differing ornaments.

There was also a concerning amount of cat statues dotted around the room, in different shelves and display cabinets.

Brightly coloured Kilim rugs littered the dark wooden floor and various mismatched sets of furniture brought the room together.

It was a bohemian's paradise and not what he would associate with Harry.

"We don't speak to him like that, Louis. Your future rides on him," Ashe brought him back to reality and he drew his eyes from the room and sighed.

"I haven't got much of a future then,"

Harry came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the open plan room and Louis eyed a bookshelf to his right. Hundreds of classics were piled high on top of one another, with various sticky notes and bookmarks covering them. One, in particular, caught Louis's attention as it seemed extremely worn and well used. Ignoring what the star was babbling on about, he took a step closer so he could see the cover in better light.

It was a dark blue colour with ghostly golden eyes peering out of it. Something about them hanging over a cityscape, accompanied by bright red lips, created an overwhelming feeling of sadness. They were on the outside, looking in, separate from the rest of reality.

"It's a first edition," Louis jumped, as Harry moved next to him. Alarmed, he turned to look at the star with eyes widened.

"The Great Gatsby," Harry further explained. He seemed distant, as if his mind was elsewhere. "The greatest book ever written,"

Louis nodded and looked back at it. Something about it was evocative of excess but sadness at the same time. It was hard to explain his feelings towards it.

"The cover is beautiful," He nodded in approval and Harry had an uncharacteristically sad smile on his face. His hand reached out to touch the cover and he stroked it gently, his gold rings paralleling the fire in those ominous eyes.

"The art is called Celestial Eyes by Francis Cugat," He explained, continuing to caress the book.

"I wonder why he chose this for the cover," Louis thought before saying it out loud. He had never read the book so wasn't quite sure on its plot but he was sure that this cover did not make sense at all.

"Isn't it about partying in the 1920s?"

Harry pulled his hand away from the cover and closed his eyes. His expression was unreadable, his eyelids fluttering and lips slightly pursed.

"But above the grey land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg,"

Louis narrowed his eyes, incredibly confused. Was he quoting something?

"What?" He blurted out, and Harry sighed, opening his eyes.

"Doesn't matter," He quickly put his fake smile back on and turned away from the shelf and back to the other contestants.

"Let's move onto the sunroom and pool, shall we?"

Louis was very jealous of Harry Styles. His home was beautiful, and although nothing matched, it all seemed to blend together in a charming, welcoming way. Not only that, but the star also had a recording studio and huge music room. As well as a pool room. That had been the highlight for Louis, even more than the book cover.

The room was like nothing he had ever seen before, and belonged in a Mafia film, over a Tudor inspired home, with bohemian elements. The room was purpose built, with large sweeping, roman style pillars and a curved glass roof. The pool, itself, was breathtaking. Its tiling made the floor seem like an antique rug and the water was crystal clear. Harry explained how there were lights built in and he could technically turn it any colour.

Bitterness and jealousy were well and truly flowing through Louis's bones as he saw more and more of the home. The worst part of the tour was the fact that Harry did not even seem grateful about his life. He could not be more indifferent.

"This is the kitchen," Harry said as they all entered what must have been the tenth room. "My chef, Amelia, will be cooking our meals for us," Louis scoffed at that.

"Are you incapable of cooking for yourself as well as carrying bags then?" He replied, eyebrows raising. Harry's knuckles went white as he clenched his fist, which was sat on the white marble worktop.

"No Louis. I actually enjoy cooking for myself but seeing as I'm an international rockstar who has other commitments, I hired a cook otherwise some of you will either starve, or burn my very expensive house down," Harry stared down at Louis, the smaller boy reminded yet again of their very apparent height difference. This was a challenge.

"I can cook," He snapped back. That was a lie.

"I didn't say you couldn't," Harry smirked, clearly enjoying the fact that he had gotten under Louis's skin and caused him to falter slightly.

Ashe also picked up on Louis's genuine anger and aggravation towards the singer and she squeezed his arm in a bid to calm him down 

"Louis stop" she hissed and Louis pulled his eyes from Harry and sent her a grateful smile.

Harry looked a little disappointed at Louis's surrender, but it was quickly hidden by yet another one of his trademark fake smiles. When Louis narrowed his eyes at his pretence, he swore he saw it falter.

The rest of the tour was fairly uneventful. The small group were led, like sheep, through a maze of rooms, including offices, conference rooms, a gym and a home cinema, all of which left Louis speechless. Eventually, Harry announced that the tour was coming to an end and he was going to leave them to their rooms, where they could unpack.

As they followed the rockstar up the sweeping staircase covered in a worn but beautiful runner, a room caught Louis's attention. It wasn't special or unusual, but the way Harry looked at it concerned him. Sadness and regret poured out of his eyes and he swallowed hard.

"I know I've already set a lot of rules but this one is serious," Harry said suddenly, stopping at the top of the staircase. "Do not enter this room," He said pointing to the door that had initially grabbed Louis's attention.

"I have an alarm on the door so I will know. I mean it. This room is off-bounds," His eyes were dark and serious and a little intimidating. All of the contestants nodded quickly, and Louis tilted his head a little confused.

What was Harry Styles hiding?

The guest rooms Harry had prepared for the other contestants were incredible. King sized beds and walk-in wardrobes, not to mention the original Picasso in Ashe's room. Excitement coursed through Louis's bones. He wondered what his room would be like. Naturally he was last, and was alone with Harry. It was not an ideal situation, but he was too excited to really care.

What he saw when the rockstar opened the door, however, was disappointment. A small double room stared back at him. It was colourful, but different to the rest of the house, as though the star had thrown a load of stuff together with no real thought. The room had a small built-in closet and an extremely tiny ensuite (a far-cry from the mansion sized areas his competitors had). The bed looked soft with a homemade patchwork quilt covering it and unusual ornaments littered the window sill. Louis made a mental note to inspect them later. Above the bed was a huge print of that book cover he had noticed earlier, golden eyes staring into the ugly wood panelling on the opposite wall. Harry really did like the Great Gatsby.

Louis was grateful to see a small door, leading to an outdoor balcony. At least he could smoke, even if he couldn't do anything else.

"So what do you think?" Harry whispered behind him, causing Louis to jump and let out a small squeak.

"I picked it out specially for you. It used to be my walk-in closet but got too small," He further explained. Firstly, how big was his clothes collection and secondly...

"Is this some sort of joke?" Louis challenged, slightly annoyed. Not only was it a third of the size of his competitors' room but even Harry's closet was bigger than this room. 

"I mean this is still bigger than my house but-"

"I think you missed what I said. It was my walk-in closet," Harry interrupted Louis mid-rant. The smaller man narrowed his eyes and turned to look at the rockstar, head tilted in confusion

"And?"

The star just chuckled, and moved towards the wood panelling, facing the bed. He stretched his ring-clad hand out and pushed against the wall. A small click was heard and part of the wall came apart.

A hidden door.

Out of curiosity, Louis moved towards the door, eager to see what was on the other side, although he had a very bad feeling.. Master walk-in closets usually attached to master bedrooms.

"You're not gonna be spending much time in here," Harry hissed, seductively. Louis stepped away, forcing space between them. This was not going to be like what happened a few days ago. He had self-control.

"Harry no," He protested, not meeting the singer's eyes.

"You can't tease me like you did and then leave me hanging," He whined, referring to Louis's earlier attitude. The contestant had not even been aware that he had been teasing. He was just frustrated by the star's spoilt behaviour, and he genuinely found that boy with the honey eyes cute.

"I told you before. What happened was a mistake that I will not be making again," Louis tried to convince himself, as Harry moved towards him, his feet moving lightly, but with purpose: like a tiger. He eventually came face to face with him.

"Are you saying you don't want to feel my hot breath on your neck again" He whispered, hot air landing on the old hickey, still present on Louis's pale neck. Harry's smell was intoxicating, like a drug and he could not help but let out a moan. The star chuckled and Louis's eyes suddenly widened.

What was he doing?!

Once again, he stepped away ensuring there was half the world between them. He then turned back to the singer.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. You are my mentor and you're putting me in an uncomfortable situation," He snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Harry's chest. Surprise riddled the star's brain and for a minute he looked guilty. Then he rolled his eyes.

"Oh please. Don't act innocent," He snapped back, clearly frustrated by Louis turning him down. He probably wasn't used to it.

Louis hoped it humbled him.

"I want you to leave," He replied, and Harry scoffed, unable to process what was really happening. His face turned cold and hard, cheekbones becoming more prominent as he clenched his already chiselled jaw.

"Fine," He replied, his eyes void of any emotion.

"I'm hosting a welcome party tonight. Try to dress less like a homeless person. I don't want to have to get you back from security,"

With that Harry sauntered out of the room, seething.

With a deep sigh, Louis slammed the hidden door shut. It was not going to be opened again.

"dickhead," He hissed under his breath.   



	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy <3

From his room, Louis could hear the trap music pumping from downstairs. His walls rattled and the windows shook as the deep bass penetrated the air.

It had officially started over an hour ago, but the lad from Doncaster found himself staring at his bed, with hundreds of clothes sprawled across it. Whilst he had tried to convince himself otherwise, what Harry said had bothered him and he had never felt so self-conscious. And so, here he was, staring at his ratty shirts and jeans, trying to find something that did not have a hole in it. He wasn't having much luck.

Releasing a sigh of frustration, he collapsed onto his bed, creasing all of the clothes his sister had carefully ironed, before he left. He decided then and there that he was not going to be attending this party. Why would he want to anyway?

For over 20 minutes he lay there, miserable, staring at the darkening ceiling. It was quickly becoming nightfall and the party was getting rowdier and louder by the second. In the distance, he could hear sport car engines revving as they pulled up to the mansion and young girls laughing the night away, hoping to get lucky with a celebrity. They were all living these incredible lives and he was here, sulking.

A light tap sounded at the door and Louis mumbled a 'come in', not bothering to look at the figure who walked in.

"Oh my god," Ashe gasped, taking in the utter mess that was Louis's room.

"It looks like a bomb went off in here. You literally moved in an hour ago," She chuckled lightly and moved closer, perching on the edge of Louis's bed full of clothes.

He groaned and rolled over, hiding his face. He did not want Ashe to see him being miserable. It was pathetic anyway. She stroked his hair and gave it a playful tug. He moved his head slightly, to glare at her.

"I've been looking for you," She chuckled at how young and innocent Louis looked with his face half burrowed in clothes. A small blush rose on his cheeks and he avoided her gaze, smothering himself back into the bed.

"I don't wanna go," He huffed like a small, stubborn child, having a temper. He knew he was being ridiculous, but every time he convinced himself to stop being silly, Harry's words crept back into his thoughts.

"Why?" Ashe challenged, grabbing Louis's shoulder and turning him around so she could see him properly. Louis cowered and hid his face in his hand. He really did not want to confess his pathetic, frankly childish behaviour to her.

"It's stupid and you'll laugh," He groaned. Ashe raised an eyebrow and shook her head.

"Try me," She chuckled, sitting him up so they were facing each other on his small double bed. Louis sighed.

"I don't have anything to wear," He admitted and immediately felt the heat growing in his cheeks.

He waited for the cruel laughter, the piercing screech that would probably make him tear up. Louis did not cry, but certain things got under his skin. Harry Styles was one of them.

"Louis," Ashe said fondly, moving her head to meet his gaze. He looked at her with his big blue eyes and tensed. Rather than laughing, she smiled, kindly.

"You literally have a wardrobe-full covering your bed," She indicated towards the mess. It was true. Louis was not exactly short on clothes, just ones he could wear to fancy Hollywood parties hosted by snobby, arrogant assholes.

"I mean like nice clothes," He explained further. "These are all old," He held up a ratty looking t-shirt, that had a yellow stain down the front and a hole in the sleeve. Ashe could not hide her disgust and she grabbed off of him and chucked it towards the bin. It missed.

"I'll lend you a t-shirt," She said, grabbing his hand and hauling him off the bed. Louis stood, reluctantly.

"You are not leaving me alone at this party. It blows without you there," She smiled and pulled him out of the room.

"Ok," He whispered as he was heaved into her much larger, luxurious room.  
  


====

If someone had asked Louis how he thought the rich partied a few months ago, he would have replied with 'Inconsequent polite conversation, canapés, and wine,' what he did not expect was the scene in front of him.

Hundreds of bodies were packed, like sardines into the pool room, moving against each other. It was like the music had placed them in a trance. They swayed to and fro, laughing, drinking up the hot, sticky atmosphere like liquid adrenaline.

Champagne overflowed and there were vacuous bursts of laughter echoing off the walls. Noises of glass smashing and unnecessary shouting rang in Louis's ears and he winced as he watched the scene unfold.

Shadows danced off the walls, and the room was lit by nothing but the shouting moon and attention-grabbing strobe lights.

There were overly skinny girls stripping out of their skin-tight dresses and diving into the water, knocking over bottles of Moet et Chandon as they went.

There were boys, clad in designer suits, sniffing thousand of dollars worth of white powder off of tables, and making out with anyone they could get their hands on.

There were crossdressers and drag queens alike, wearing extravagant costumes, covered in feathers and sequins, moving with the crowd of a-listers and social climbers.

It really was shameless and reeked of prodigality.

The scene made Louis feel sick.

He debated turning around and leaving, but soon realised that he had been trapped in movement, and was now surrounded by bodies. He grabbed Ashe's hand and she gave it a squeeze. He could understand why she did not want to be alone.

"Let's go find somewhere to sit," She shouted over the loud music and he nodded. The moon was now hung high in the sky, lighting the her face in an ethereal manner.

The two weaved through the drug-fuelled crowd, scanning the room for somewhere more quiet. A dark mahogany door caught their attention and they made their way to it, a little apprehensive.

When Ashe opened the mysterious door, the two gasped. In front of them was a real-life opium den with boys and girls falling all over one another as deep, dense smoke hung in the air. Opium pipes littered the floor amongst the empty bottles of champagne and more white powder coated antique tables. Deep purple and red silk fabrics lined the walls and Moroccan rugs donned the floor.

Louis's eyes widened as he saw a figure hunched in the corner with a girl's tongue down his throat.

Harry.

He swallowed and quickly looked away.

"This is so cool," Ashe gasped, her eyes full of wonder. She clearly had not spotted their mentor.

"Stay here, imma get us some champagne," and just like that she disappeared out of the room, leaving Louis alone, in the drug den.

At least it was quiet, he tried to reason, as he perched on one of the bohemian style beanbags. He kept his vision firmly on his hands, trying not to look at Harry in the corner.

That was probably why he almost jumped out of his skin when he heard:

"Hello Louis Tomlinson,"

His head snapped up to see Harry Styles staring back at him, with a strange expression on his face. His eyes seemed dopey and he swayed slightly as he tried to remain standing.

"Jesus, Harry," Louis muttered, looking at the state of the rockstar, who could barely stand. "What did you take?"

He shrugged and rubbed at his nose. The Doncaster lad sighed and scooted up so Harry could sit next to him. The boy collapsed and stared at him with pupils larger than Jupiter. It was actually quite scary to see.

"You confuse me, Louis Tomlinson," He slurred, speaking surprisingly and uncharacteristically fast. He fidgeted on the beanbag and tried to lean into Louis. He moved away.

"Why's that?" He asked, trying to remain nonchalant. The boy tilted his head and sent him a goofy, drugged-up smile.

"Because I like you. You're fit," He then leaned into Louis's ear and whispered:

"And I want to do things to you,"

Louis shivered at the hot and damp breath on his skin. Harry smelt champagne-sweet, and it morphed with his natural woody smell surprisingly well. Before he could bask in the scent however, he quickly reminded himself of the situation.

"Harry. We've had this discussion," He said, gently pushing Harry back. The boy tried to protest but was too far gone to put up a real fight.

"That's why you confuse me. People don't say no to me," He said as if it was obvious. In the dim lighting, Louis could just about make out his face. To his surprise, Harry was wearing makeup. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but the highlighter on his cheek sparkled and caught Louis's eye. He was about to say something about it, when a tall, skinny dark-haired model came sauntering up to them. She was drop dead gorgeous, all leg and a stunning face. Louis was sure that she was the girl that Harry had been making out with when he first entered the room.

She ignored Louis's presence and grabbed Harry's hand.

"Harry! I'm lonely," She whined and all of her beauty dissolved. She was spoilt and rotten to the core. Louis could tell. Apparently, Harry could too, despite the drugs he was on, and he whipped his hand away from her.

"Kendall, I wasn't interested," He snapped. The model's eyes widened in shock before she turned away, tail hanging behind her legs, like a dog.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Harry said, looking back at Louis. "I don't like not getting what I want and I want you,"

Louis's mouth dropped open at the star's bluntness. He suspected that the drugs were something to do with it. Coke made you impulsive right?

"Harry, no," He said, shaking his head in disapproval. Around him, people were staring at the scene. They probably weren't used to seeing Mr Styles rejected either.

"Come on. Just a quickie," Harry pleaded, his hand palming Louis's jeans. He gasped and shot up from his seat. His face burned bright enough to outshine the sun and his mind scattered like a scared rabbit.

This was not ok.

Harry was not ok.

"Harry. You're high right now and even if you weren't, I still wouldn't. Please get away from me," He snapped, now angry. He felt violated and incredibly uncomfortable with the situation.

"Louis! I got a bottle! Do you want- oh!" Ashe stopped what she was doing and her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. Louis was standing up, towering over Harry, who was on his knees, pleading with Louis. He could even imagine how bad it looked.

Embarrassed and annoyed, he turned away from Harry and to the pretty blonde haired girl whose black dress sparkled in dim lighting.

"Can we go please? I kinda wanna see the rest of the party," He lied smoothly, hoping Ashe didn't notice the slight tremor in his voice. If she did, she didn't say anything. She just gave him a big trademark smile and turned towards the party.

"Of course! I spotted a sun lounger free a moment ago," Louis nodded and turned his back on Harry Styles, who was lost for words.    
  


===

Louis collapsed on the sun lounger and stretched his short limbs. In the moonlight, he looked even paler than usual and he cringed at his pasty appearance, especially when all those around him had sun kissed skin and glowing smiles. Ashe sat next to him and handed him a champagne glass. He gulped it down straight away.

Louis hated champagne. It was bitter and fizzy and made his head feel funny. He had not had it much, seeing as his family could barely afford Bucks Fizz, but even if they could, he would not be drinking it by choice. It just seemed the only option right now. There was no way he was surviving this party any longer stone cold sober.

"Woah! Easy there tiger," A deep, Yorkshire accent chuckled and Louis glanced up. Zayn Malik had just taken a seat in front of him and was grinning widely and openly. It was a comforting smile, one that reminded him of home. The Northern accent also helped. He'd heard far too many screeching American voices tonight.

A single strand of his dark locks fell into his honey coloured eyes and his feminine features contrasted with his short beard, in the best way.

"I haven't seen you before," He continued. "I'm Zayn,"

The boy from Bradford flashed a toothy grin and beside him, Ashe giggled.

"I know- I mean I'm Ashe and this is Louis. Harry's our mentor," Her words tumbled out clumsily as she tried to hide her starstruck-ness. It wasn't working. Zayn glanced between the two of them and his eyes widened.

"Oh shit!! You're from Factor 28?!" He said, voice a little louder and more enthusiastic than needed. Louis nodded slowly, slightly surprised by how lovely the star was. He assumed that he was a dick, by association with Harry. Clearly he wasn't. Shame he couldn't give some of that kindness to Harry.

"Hey Liam!" He called out to a body in the crowd, whose hands were on the waist of a tall, leggy blonde. He turned around and grabbed the girl's hand, dragging her off the dance floor.

"This is Louis and Ashe. They're who Harry's mentoring," Zayn pointed at the two of them and Ashe gave him a little wave. Liam Payne was exactly how Louis had pictured him. He was model perfect with a symmetrical face and soft skin, sculpted by light stubble. His fit was effortless. A white t-shirt that clung to his well defined abs and tight black jeans.

"Has he fucked up yet?" He joked, taking a seat next to Zayn. His female 'friend' perched on the edge of the lounger, looking the two imposters up and down. Snootiness and vanity oozed off her.

Neither Louis or Ashe answered the question. What could they say? He'd missed Louis's one to one session completely and snapped at James, not to mention the shit he'd done to Louis, which Ashe wasn't even aware of.

"I'll take that as a yes," Liam snorted. He was right. Sometimes silence was louder than words.

"I told him not to take the job. He's useless at stuff like that. I'm Liam, by the way," He added, as an afterthought.

Louis liked that the two had actually introduced themselves, rather than assuming he knew who they were, like Harry had done. It was refreshing to see that fame did not turn everyone into massive jerks.

"Hi!" Both him and Ashe said at the same time.

"I'm Olivia," The platinum blonde, who was leeching off Liam like a tic finally spoke. Her voice was high pitched and annoying and Louis liked her even less.

"So how are you liking your first Hollywood party?" Liam asked, ignoring his...

Girlfriend? friend? Prostitute? Weren't they all the same in the world of rock and roll?

"It's a bit..." Louis paused. He found it hard to put it into words.

"...Rowdy?" Zayn supplied and he nodded. Exactly. The party was rowdy and rambunctious and not his scene at all.

"That's what I thought when I attended my first party. Seventeen years old and being offered Champagne by the gallon. Didn't feel real," Zayn chuckled and sent Liam a knowing glance. The boy smiled back at him, as if it was some sort of inside joke shared between old friends.

"Are you excited about the competition? I heard-" Liam was interrupted by a crackling, uncomfortable scream and a husky yell. Louis's eyes widened and he turned to the source of the noise

Harry Edward Styles was falling. He was falling straight into his bespoke pool with a look of nothingness on his face. His eyes seemed to be twitching in the moonlight and was struggling to stay conscious. Bodies surrounded the ledge of the pool, laughing and clapping at his expense.

"Is he ok?" Louis whispered, extremely concerned. This was not normal.

"Harry?" Liam asked, a little surprised at Louis's concern. "Oh yeah he's fine. He does this at every party," He tried to explain but Louis wasn't having it. He could die.

"Shouldn't somebody help him? He asked, debating whether or not to spring from his seat and drag the drenched boy from the water.

Olivia scoffed at his warranted worry and rolled her eyes.

"Honey, you're in Hollywood now," She laughed, draping a skeletal arm around Liam's waist. "This is the land of the rich and famous, the land of lavish parties and the best drugs. This is just how we live," her head was thrown back dramatically and she let out a nasty laugh.

"But someone needs to help him. Surely this is a bit excessive" Louis tried to reason.

"We are excess," She laughed, signalling towards the party. "This is Hollywood baby,"

Zayn and Liam seemed a little annoyed at her antics and the Wolverhampton lad rolled his eyes, in disgust. Clearly his date was not what he had expected.

"I promise you, Harry is fine" He then said, meeting Louis's eyes. The boy could not help but notice that he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying.

As Louis watched Harry's limp body being dragged out of the cold, crystal clear water by staff he was sure of one thing.

Harry Styles was not fine.

Following the incident, Louis told Ashe that he was going to bed, despite the fact that he'd been at the party for less than an hour. If he was being honest, what happened with Harry had scared him, especially seeing as everyone was so cool about it. He got the impression that this happened more than once at parties and he did not want to watch another near-death experience.

He pushed his way through the drug induced crowds who were dancing to the moon's melody, their limbs moving as one, and fought his way to the exit. It took him a good 15 minutes before he was finally out of the pool room. Every step he took resulted in him being whisked away by yet another dancing figure, and he would have to awkwardly wiggle his way out of their grabby hands.

The rest of the house was eerily quiet. It was another dimension. Behind him was Hollywood and in front of him was reality. He preferred reality.

He took the stairs two at a time, feeling surprisingly tired and craving his bed. As he ascended however, he heard a faint sob. He froze and looked in the direction of the noise.

The mysterious door that Harry had insisted must stay closed was ajar, and Louis could just make out Harry's hunched over figure. The star was in a heap on the floor, rocking slightly, like a baby. Seeing the rockstar like that, his tears sparkling in the moonlight, body language defeated, made him feel the strangest emotion and it wasn't hate for once. It was something else, but Louis did not know what.


	9. IX

The curious sun peeked through the kitsch, brightly coloured curtains, tapping on the window, begging to be let in. It did not like to be ignored, especially when it was shining so brightly. Its rude persistence eventually enticed Louis from slumber, and he groaned lightly.

He squinted at the obstreperous light cascading down onto his bed and rubbed his eyes, grumbling about the curtain's poor performance of keeping the sunlight out..

There was something quite nonchalant about his actions as he stretched his small limbs and cracked his bones, yawning gently, like a kitten.

For several minutes he lay there, basking in the sunlight, and not thinking. It was a rare experience for Louis, whose mind was constantly filled with confusion, nerves and self-doubt.

Was this meditating? Louis had no idea. He thought that woke lifestyle stuff was bullshit, but this was oddly calm. It was different, but relaxing?

This blissful feeling soon came crashing down, however, as memories of last night flooded his senses and he shot up from the bed in an instant.

The party.

The drugs

Zayn.

Liam.

Harry flirting.

Harry falling and...

Harry crying, alone in that room, away from his friends and colleagues and anyone. The boy had been utterly alone, and Louis had just watched. Should he have gone and checked on him? No, that would be an invasion of his privacy. He did not want him and the other contestants in that room for a reason.

Before Louis could overthink anymore, there was a gentle tap on his door.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead! Breakfast is served!" Ashe swept into the room looking like Summer and the end of June. Her platinum blonde hair appeared golden in the sunlight and she had swapped her trademark black for a bright and breezy, pastel blue, silk summer dress. If Louis wasn't completely and unapologetically gay, he would definitely fancy her. 

He smiled and waved, before grabbing an old t-shirt, and pulling it over his lightly tanned torso and tummy.

"Let's go, luv," He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and the two made their way down to breakfast.

Louis could not suppress a gasp at the food spread in front of him. There was more selection than most hotels offered and he knew a lot about hotel breakfasts. He loved a good free buffet and would go as far as to label himself a hotel buffet breakfast connoisseur.

Ok, maybe that was a little too far, but he still liked them a lot. 

This breakfast selection trumped all of his prior experiences, however.

The other two contestants, who he still hadn't learnt the names of, were already seated at the breakfast bar, tucking into plates of nothing and kale smoothies. He grimaced a little at that and fought the urge to roll his eyes. One day in and they were already trying to eat like celebrities.

Louis wasn't. He definitely wasn't. Not when they had coco pops as an option.

Without a second thought, he poured himself a bowl, ignoring the glares of disapproval from his snooty competitors. Ashe sent him fond smile at his child-like antics and grabbed herself a piece of avocado-on-toast.

Louis tried his best to keep his mouth shut, clamping his teeth, and grating them hard. He hated avocados. Something about them pissed him off. They were so pretentious and unnecessary. Ashe seemed oblivious to his phobia of the frankly appalling vegetable.

"Louis Tomlinson?" A voice called out and the boy turned his face, which was stuffed with cereal. Harry's assistant stood awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs.

"Harry won't be joining us for breakfast this morning, but you're going to be having a one-to-one session with him, in the music room, in an hour,"

Louis almost choked. An hour?! Had Harry's assistant not seen the state of the rockstar last night?! He'd be lucky to get him up before 3pm. Harry was probably curled up in bed, trying to nurse that monster headache he was facing, and piecing together the night before.

He was going to miss yet another session with his so called mentor.  
  


===  
  


Despite his skepticism that Harry would actually turn up, Louis still found his way into the music room. Even if (and when) the star did not turn up, Louis would still have the entire room to himself, including that vintage Steinway grand piano that he had eyed on the tour.

He sat at the stool and gazed at the keys in amazement: a pattern of black and white laid out perfectly. It probably cost more than his small house in Doncaster, and that's what made it so thrilling. 

Louis had never been big on money. He found those who purchased unnecessary goods for bragging rights insufferable, but there was something about expensive musical instruments that hypnotised him.

Maybe it was the angels singing when he trickled the keys, or the soft hum of heaven sighing as he delicately pressed chords, but something about the Steinway transported him to another realm. 

Perching there, on that stool, in that quiet room; the only sound being the gentle notes echoing off the wall, made Louis felt at home.

There was no natural light in the room, the only source being fairy-lights on the ceiling like stars, and antique guitars hung on the far wall, displayed proudly. In this setting, Louis could help but start singing.

"I want to give you more. Oh baby I'm an open door," Louis voice carried over the angelic chords, like soft and warm honey. 

"I want to let you know, but it's time that I move on," His eyes closed as he began to move to the imaginary rhythm in his head, feet delicately pushing on the pedals. The lyrics flowed off of his lips like water.

"What a mess we made, my future in my hands, then it fades. What a mess we got into, thoughtless actions, me and you," His fingers glided effortlessly across the Steinway, like a classical pianist. He'd never felt like this before, so electrified and inspired.

"I wish I could go back in time, wish I was in the right Frame of mind. I wish you could say 'we'll be alright'," Louis amplified his voice more, reaching the climax of the chorus; eyes still clamped shut, as he lost himself.

"But that's not you and that's not me. What a careless mistake we made for sweet serenity," Louis finished the chorus, his feminine hands sliding off the keys. He was little surprised by whole easily the song came to him, the words pouring straight out of his heart and into the music.

He wasn't the only one shocked by his impromptu performance.

"I had no idea you could sing like that," Louis's head shot up like a scared deer and a pair of green orbs stared back into him. Harry Styles.

"Your voice is so pretty," The rockstar continued and Louis flushed a little at the compliment.

"I mean. I guess that makes sense. A pretty voice for a pretty individual," Louis squirmed in the stool and shot a frown Harry's way. The star chuckled at that and used his ringless hands to push his unstyled hair out of his face.

There was something different about his appearance, something more... mundane. Rather than flashy suits, jewellery and sunglasses, Harry donned a very fitted, white, vintage concert t shirt and a pair of tight black sweatpants. His hair was unkempt, but seemed healthier looking?

His pupils!

Suddenly Louis realised. For the first time, Harry was sober. He could finally see the light green specks, swirling in gentle patterns, as if they had been caught up by the wind. He could finally see the slight hazel tint surrounding the jet black pupil. Seeing his eyes like this, constricted and normal, Louis could really understand the beauty of the rockstar. The true natural beauty not enhanced by clothes or makeup. The type of beauty framed by long eye lashes and soft baby skin. It left him speechless.

Unfortunately, Harry noticed this and an arrogant smirk elongated on his face. It seemed that a different appearance did not mean a different personality, a real shame in Louis's opinion.

"Take a picture babe," His rough voice was smooth like warm butter. "It might last longer,"

The star struck a ridiculous pose, leaning on the Steinway, as if it was a cheap table. To the untrained eye, this sight would have been enough to make them melt, but to Louis, he could not help but snort.

"Oh?" Harry picked up on Louis's amusement at his attempts at sexy posing. "Would you prefer me with less clothes? I'm happy to oblige,"

Before Louis could object, the rockstar's shirt was pulled over his head, revealing his toned muscles and tattoo littered skin. Louis's eyes wondered across his torso, skimming across his various ink drawings. The butterfly, in particular caught his attention. It was truly beautiful. Fine lines flowed together, black ink weaving together to create the wings. Despite his fascination, Louis knew he had to draw his eyes away from the star.

This was stupid and wrong and irresponsible.

"Put your shirt back on," he snapped, a little harsher than intended. Harry jumped at the sudden change in tone and quickly slipped it back on, a little embarrassed and very shocked.

"You are so unprofessional," Louis huffed, his fingers tickling the keys again. The sweet sounds of music rang through the room, dancing on the walls, but it not ease the thick tension in the room.

"Relax, I was only messing around," The rockstar sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was the first indication that he was probably harbouring some form of headache from the night before and Louis tilted his head.

"Do you not remember what happened last night?" He questioned, searching the boy's jade green orbs for an explanation. He stared back, blankly, before moulding into a smirk.

"No? Why? Was it juicy?" He gasped, slapping a hand across his mouth, like teenage school girl about to hear the latest gossip.

"Please tell me it was juicy," He wiggled his eyebrows and Louis looked at him, a nasty taste in the back of his mouth.

"It was not juicy at all. In fact it was disgusting. You were completely out of it and you felt me up without my consent," Harry's playful grin dropped into one of shock and regret. His eyes widened dramatically and He took a sharp intake of breath.

"If you do that again, I swear I will report you," The boy sat at the piano threatened, his eyes narrowed and his voice firm.

"I-I'm sorry," Harry stumbled through his apology, which actually seemed sincere. His brows were knitted together and his eyes were full of honest trees and earnest forests.

"When I'm high I don't really know what I'm doing," He admitted, and looked down at his hands, twiddling his large thumbs.

"You're always high," Louis challenged, refusing to accept the apology, despite how thick the rockstar lay it on. He was not going to be a pushover, and maybe now he would finally leave him alone. 

"That's the point," Harry muttered quietly under his breath. He probably thought Louis couldn't hear, but he could, and the comment concerned him.

"I'm really sorry. It was wrong of me. Perhaps stay away from me at parties. I'm an acquired taste," He tried to turn the conversation around with a joke but Louis wasn't laughing. Nothing about this situation with Harry was funny. He had a wife, a career, employees. People relied on him and he was willing to risk it all to get into Louis's pants. It was not okay, and Louis was not going to fall victim to his charms.

"No, you're a dickhead. Can we just get on with the lesson please,"  
  


===   
  


Time passed slowly as Louis and Harry sat on the piano stool. Louis's hands delicately danced across the keys, like dainty ballerinas, and Harry sat in silence, occasionally making a comment about Louis's vocal technique. For an arrogant son of a bitch, he sure knew a lot about music.

Soon, Louis ran out of stuff to play and he did not have any sheet music. He waited for Harry to speak, but he didn't.

Awkwardness filled the room, clogging up Louis's senses and choking him. He wanted to gasp for breath, but did not dare disturb the echoing silence of the room enveloping them both.

"Who taught you to play piano?" Harry suddenly asked, and the thick air evaporated in an instant.

Louis tried his best not to look surprised at his mentor's question. Was he actually showing interest in someone else's life?

"My mum. She loved music," He answering fondly. Memories flashed into his mind of him and his mum sat at a stool, playing on an old beat-up, out of tune piano. It was awful, but it was perfect.

"My sister taught me to play guitar," Harry said, even though he wasn't asked. Louis did not protest, however. It was nice to hear the boy talking about something other than sex or drugs.

"I was awful at the start and never listened. She used to tell me that I'd be a liability if I became famous," He chuckled and his eyes seemed to drift, as if he was remembering something. A small smile fell upon his face and the smaller boy could not help but bask in the beauty of Harry. Louis had never noticed that his eyes crinkled slightly when he truly smiled.

"Well, she's not wrong," Louis laughed, waiting for Harry to let out a small chuckle, or possibly throw a massive hissy fit and storm off like a diva. Instead, he just looked at his hands which were fidgeting and fleeting. He looked sad? Bittersweet?

"No, she wasn't," Harry mumbled.

Louis concluded that he was definitely sad.

"The last conversation we had was about me not ever taking responsibility and hiding from the truth. I guess I still haven't learnt,"

His words caused Louis's breath to hitch and he looked at Harry with his big blue doe eyes, concerned. He knew what was coming but he asked anyway.

"Last? What do you mean last?" He asked cautiously, and moved his hand so it rested on top of Harry's hyperactive ones. They suddenly stilled and Harry finally looked up through thick eyelashes, tears brimming in his pretty green orbs.

"She was in a car crash a few weeks after I performed at my first Brits. Died instantly," He swallowed and coughed, as if he was trying to fight back a sob. Louis's mind wondered back to their second encounter in the dressing room where he brought up his mum. He remembered Harry's face. It had been hurt and conflicted and confused and upset. It must have been so hard to hear Louis rant like that, shaming him.

"Oh my god, Harry. I'm so sorry," He gasped and his hand slot into Harry's, squeezing it tightly. The star sent him a grateful smile, but the tears were still present in his eyes, refusing to fall.

"s'okay. It's been a long time," He said, before pulling his hands away from Louis. He then straightened up, and the lad from Doncaster watched in horror as his persona warped into something else. He shot Louis the saddest fake smile he'd ever seen. His eyes were watery and his lip was shaky. 

"Anyway look at me now! International rockstar and a household name," He struck a pose, and looked at Louis, waiting for him to laugh.

He didn't.

In truth, Louis saw through the whole act. He'd gone through it himself. Using humour to try and cope with reality. But Harry had actually opened up to him. That meant he wanted him to know more, even if he didn't really know it consciously.

"Tell me about her," Louis then said. Harry's eyes widened and his smile faltered.

"What?" He blurted out.

"What was she like?" Louis pushed further, hoping to appeal to Harry's subconscious. He could see the conflict in the star's eyes and he searched them for an answer. He looked away and let out a small and sad chuckle.

"Shouldn't we get back to your lesson?" He asked, trying to avoid the question.

"No. I reckon we've done enough. I wanna know," Louis persisted and Harry eventually let out a sigh. Louis suspected it was one of relief. He wondered how long he had been bottling up his feelings. If his reaction to the question was any indication, probably a lot.

"Ummm she was amazing," Harry started and then paused. He looked at Louis who urged him to continue.

Then it all came out like dominoes falling one after the other.

"The greatest and kindest person you'll ever meet. She was funny and good hearted. We used to put on these shows together in the back garden and all the neighbours would come and watch. We were like this double act: Gemma and Harry back at it again. Mum wasn't really around much because of her job so she basically raised me. You'd think that as we aged we'd gradually grow apart like all brothers and sisters do, but it was the opposite. She used to take me all these parties and we'd get drunk together. I even did my first line with her. I guess you could say I'm basically a carbon-copy or her, or I was before-" Harry's voiced stopped and he looked at the wall behind Louis, his face stony.

"before what?" Louis asked, but Harry shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. Let's get back to what-"

"Harry, I hate to interrupt but Simon is on the phone," Harry's assistant popped his head around the door and he groaned.

"Oh ok" He said, unenthusiastically. Sorry Louis I'll just be a sec,"

"No problem!" He replied.

Whilst the star was gone, Louis sat and contemplated what had happened. The two had actually had a real conversation. One that was not fuelled by anger or desire, or drugs. One that flowed, once Harry began to open up.

Louis did not like being wrong, but he was beginning to suspect that there was more to Harry than his shallowness. There was something complex and interesting, and a little broken about him. It was concealed well with his larger than life personality and arrogance, but Louis realised that, deep down, the boy was probably very insecure.

All progress was lost, however, when the rockstar appeared 40 minutes later, wrath tearing away his vulnerability. He looked angry and upset, and his pupils were once again dilated. He did not utter a word to Louis as he sat down at the stool and the two sat in uncomfortable silence. Finally Louis broke and his heads moved back to the keys, unable to resist their pull. He sang for the star, hoping he would snap out of the trance he was in and say something, but he didn't. He simply watched Louis's hands dance, occasionally writing something down.

Twenty minutes later his phone alarm went off and Harry bolted, leaving Louis in utter confusion.

What had he done wrong?


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, my loves <3

"Ok but I still think that it's bragging rights," A jolly Irish voice chuckled down the phone and Louis groaned lightly. For the past hour he had been filling Niall in on the past few days, including Harry's fickleness the other day. Rather than give any useful advice, his friend was rather taken by the idea of Louis getting with his mentor, because he was 'Harry Styles'.

What the Irishman failed to take into account was that the rockstar was also one of the most annoying people Louis had ever had the misfortune of meeting.

After their mini bonding session, Louis had hoped that maybe their dynamic would change a little, and it had. Rather than flirt shamelessly with the smaller boy, Harry now simply ignored him. In fact, he had not uttered a word in two days.

Louis could tell that he was angry or upset about something, but he refused to meet his eyes.

There was a strange sadness in Louis's soul. He missed seeing that all encompassing forest, even if the owner was a pain in his ass.

Whilst he lay on the bed, pretending to listen to Niall's antics, he stared at that piece of artwork, framed above him. The longer he analysed, the more uncomfortable those painted eyes made him feel. They seemed to be reaching out to him, screaming for help. They were lost, tangled in excess and loneliness.

"Look, Lou. You know I'm only playing with you right?" Louis was pulled from his thoughts and let out a confused squeak.

"You're being really quiet. I can tell it's bugging you. I'm sorry and it sucks you're in this position," The Doncaster lad raised an eyebrow at that. Niall was not one for apologies. He was a happy-go-lucky guy who would move on, rather than stick to the past, like glue. Louis was the opposite.

He quickly reassured his friend that he was not upset with him and that he just had a lot on his mind, which was true.

In less than two weeks, he would be performing on live television, in front of the biggest names in the industry and millions of viewers. He also had Harry to deal with.

Recently, he'd found himself spacing out more and more, his brain trying desperately to put the pieces together. He was doing that now, his vision never leaving that stupid picture. Why was Harry so obsessed with it anyway? The print wasn't that special and The Great Gatsby was supposed to be a boring book that people were forced to read at high school. He reckoned it was some pretentious, narcissistic complex thing.

Louis chuckled a little at his thought and then frowned. Harry's sister seeped into his mind and guilt engulfed his amusement. That had been happening a lot. He would have some derogatory thought about the rockstar, and then he would remember.

Harry Styles was broken too.

Anxiety plagued Louis's mind and he felt fidgety and uncomfortable. He needed to write something, preferably music.

"Look I'm sorry Niall, but I've got to go," He muttered into the phone and the Irishman stopped talking, mid-flow.

"Oh," He said, disappointment rich and evident in his voice. "Okay. We'll speak soon yeah?"

Louis mumbled a quick 'of course' before hanging up and throwing the phone as far as he could. It landed in a soft heap, on top of some dirty laundry he had been too lazy to put out to wash. He was not going to need it if he was going to the music room.

The Steinway called him.  
  


===  
  


Louis wandered down the long, winding corridors, on a mission. He yearned for that piano; for its gentle voice ringing in his ear like gold. In a rush, he almost missed the angry voices coming from one of the meeting rooms. He knew he shouldn't snoop, but a distinctly harsh tone echoed in his brain and his breath hitched as he heard the insult roll off his tongue, like water.

"Listen to me, you brat," Simon Cowbell hissed at someone. Louis did not know who.

"You are going to that premiere whether you like it or not," His voice was booming and threatening. Louis cowered a little. He had never heard him use that tone before. On television, he came across as nice and friendly, but this? This was enough to terrify Louis, and he was not even on the receiving end.

"No I'm not," Another voice protested, clearly agitated and frustrated. Louis would recognise its deep and warm tone from anywhere.

Harry.

"I am tired of this. I'm tired of hiding. I just wanna be myself," Harry's voice was small and vulnerable. There was a touch of desperation in there and Louis could picture his big doe eyes.

He knew he should not eavesdrop, but something about the situation told him that he needed to listen. There was a little voice in his head saying that this moment was significant, somehow.

"If you wanted that, then you should have done something else, you ungrateful bitch," Louis's eyes widened and he fought every urge to storm into the room and get involved in the argument. He did not particularly like Harry, in fact, most of the time he hated him, but that did mean that his boss could talk to him like that.

"Do you think this is easy for me?" Simon continued, Louis could practically hear the spit flying out of his mouth as he leaned against the corridor wall. There was a short silence and he reckoned the two were at a stand off, until, finally Harry spoke.

"Yes. I do," he challenged, and Louis knew that his bright green orbs were narrowing in on Simon, hopefully intimidating him.

"Well it's not," Simon retorted and the Doncaster lad swallowed. He needed to leave. He shouldn't be listening, but he was rooted to the spot, unable to escape. It was as if some higher power was telling him: 'no, listen.'

"I don't wanna be working with disgusting fags and yet here you are, in front of me," Louis's heart dropped. This was not ok. He stared at the door, his hand hovering in front of it. Should he intercept? He quickly pulled it away and shook his head. What was happening was none of his business and he needed to leave, but he couldn't?

Instead, he took to staring at the lint on the carpet, which made random patterns on the floor. He attempted to make shapes but was pulled from the activity by a small, barely legible voice.

"Stop," Harry's voice wavered as he spoke to his boss, and Louis could tell that the line had gotten under his skin. The real question was why?

Harry was not gay.

He was married for crying out loud, so why was Simon calling him such nasty names?

"I mean look at the state of you," Louis could hear the disgust in his voice.

"You're one coke line away from an overdose," Everything around Louis froze and all he could hear was his heartbeat and the ringing in his ears. Simon had said exactly what Louis had said in the dressing room. Harry had been so upset by that line, so angry. Louis had assumed it was because he did not like being told stuff he did not want to hear, but now there was a much darker reason. What if what Louis said reminded him of what his employer had been saying? Guilt towards the star was becoming an all too familiar feeling.

"Please stop it," Harry's voice raised a little, and his upset was warping into anger.

"No. You stop," Simon snapped in an extremely aggressive manner. There was a loud thud and he was sure that one of them had thrown something across the room.

"Harry Styles, you are going to that premiere with Taylor Swift. You will hold hands, you will kiss, you will wear that fucking ring I bought you and you will be the picture-perfect couple. Is that clear?" The words swam around Louis's brain as he tried to process the confidential information. Why would Simon force Harry to be with his own wife? They were married.

It was obvious that the two were having severe issues at the moment, hence Harry's constant flirting with Louis, but this sounded like more than a few issues. It did not even sound like the two were on speaking terms.

"I am not going," Harry said, his voice firm. Louis smirked at that, for once glad for Harry's stubbornness.

There was a very long silence, and you could probably hear a pin drop. Then Simon cleared his throat.

"If you don't go, I'll have no choice. I'll release it," Louis could hear Harry's breathing become heavy and panicked.

"No no no, please don't. I beg. I'll do it, just please don't," He sounded urgent and scared, his voice shaking, and tears probably running down his soft, delicate skin. An urge to hug the rockstar suddenly became overwhelming, and despite all of their issues, Louis knew that right now, Harry needed a friend.

"See? It wasn't that hard was it?" Simon spat out sarcastically. Louis's fists bunched up and it took all of his self-control not to burst into that room and break the man's nose. He could not believe that he had bought the narrative that Simon was a nice person.

How could he be so naive?

"Oh stop crying. It's pathetic. Get out of my sight. You're a disgrace,"

The door handle began to turn and Louis's eyes widened. Panicking, he just stood there, unable to move. He braced himself for the scene he was about to witness and took a deep breath.

What he saw was even more heartbreaking than he'd anticipated.

A broken soul walked out of the room, his body defeated. pearl-shaped tears rolled down his cheeks from wide luminous eyes, leaving no smears or streaks. His lips trembled and his shoulders heaved with emotion, unwilling to back down. His unkempt acorn hair fell into his face, curls cascading like gentle waves on a faraway ocean.

Louis had never seen such a beautiful crier.

"Harry- I"

The boy turned, startled, before widening his glassy eyes in shock. Neither of them spoke, unsure what to say. What was there to say? There was a silence shared, like poison, uttering unsaid words.

It seemed as though, in that moment, all they owned was a void nothingness; their eyes boring into the other.

Harry broke their gaze first, looking to the floor, and Louis did the same. By the time he looked up again, Harry was fleeing the scene, gentle sobs escaping his pretty lips.  
  


===   
  


Every time he closed his eyes, he saw him standing there, broken: his soft green eyes flooded with an ocean-full of emotion. He watched as his lip trembled and pursed with terror and embarrassment. He saw his whole body shivering, hands clenched together.

Everything about Harry Styles was utterly beautiful, but he was also utterly and completely broken.

Perhaps that's why Louis found himself knocking on the secret door, that separated him and the rockstar. He had kind of hoped that he would not answer, and yet, within a few moments he heard a soft click and the door widened revealing a shell of a man.

Harry seemed dead behind the eyes, drowning and helpless in his crazy world. His hands were still shaking and bloodshot eyes stared back at Louis, void of anything. There were still delicate crystals dotting his cheeks and his skin was red and blotchy, but somehow it looked perfect.

"Hi Harry," Louis whispered apprehensively. The boy sent him a small, sad smile and looked down at his feet.

"Hi Louis," he replied, his voice quiet and vulnerable. It was different to any other interaction that they had had.

An awkward silence followed and both stood in the doorframe, unsure on who was making the next move. This feeling was so unfamiliar to Louis. He had never felt nervous with the star, but now he had seen how fragile he was, he was afraid to shatter him. 

Harry Styles was delicate, and cracking at the surface.

"Are you okay?" Louis finally asked, looking at him, attempting to meet his eyes, that stayed glued to his shoes.

"why would you care?" He mumbled, shuffling slightly, a slight harshness in his tone.

"Of course I care!" Louis exclaimed, taken back by the question.

"Why would I be here if I didn't?" He then tried to reason with the star, how simply shrugged, before ignoring the statement and changing the subject.

"So, how much did you hear? All of it?" When Harry finally looked up, his face was hard, and his eyes were emotionless. He had completely switched off his feelings. It was a skill that Louis was all too familiar with, and it disturbed him to see Harry do the same so effortlessly.

Internalising your feelings was not a healthy coping mechanism.

The star was unaware of the Doncaster lad's inner turmoil and waited impatiently for an answer to the question.

"Most of it," He finally admitted. There was no point being dishonest about the situation.

"Then you know," Harry pulled his dark hair out of his eyes and leant against the doorframe. His shoulders looked slumped and defeated, but his face was still emotionless. Louis tilted his head a little at the boy's words, confused. 

"Know what?" He asked, unsure what his mentor was referring to.

"That Taylor is a beard," Harry then confessed.

"I'm gay,"

The world was falling: earthquakes rattling and waves cascading cities, ice caps burning and the sky on fire, and yet Louis was oblivious. Those two words swam around his head like lodgers, planting themselves firmly in his consciousness.

Harry Styles was Gay.

Unaware of Louis's complete and utter shock, Harry continued.

"Simon wants us to go to Amsterdam. A lovely PR stunt, loads of PDA. I cannot fucking wait," He spat it out like it was poison, and was disgusted with the notion. So was Louis.

That was so wrong, and surely illegal. How could a management force a man to be straight? There had to be a law, somewhere, that prohibited that.

"I'm so sorry," He supplied, knowing it wouldn't really help the outcome, but perhaps offer a little comfort to the singer. Harry just scoffed and shook his head. He moved away from the doorframe and into his room. Louis followed behind.

Most people would be taken aback by being in the star's room, their wide eyed gazes probably scanning over every surface and nook and cranny, and yet, Louis's eyes never left the star's back. He was afraid that if he looked away, he wouldn't be there when he looked back.

"I'm your mentor right?" Harry asked, sitting on his huge super-king bed with big pillars, either side, and white sheets.

"He's some fucking sound advice. Don't get into this business. Run as fast as you can. It's all a trap. They lure you with empty promises and romanticised ideas, then they sell you short and ruin your life," As experience poured out of the star, as did emotions, and tears once again formed in his big green eyes, drowning their beauty, yet enhancing their youth. His tears immortalised his vulnerability and allure and artistry.

Louis could see the star hurting, but it didn't make sense. How could he be trapped in this position. Why didn't he just tell someone. He could easily leak his own sexuality.

"Why don't you just say no?" Harry chuckled, and more tears left his eyes. The Doncaster lad fought the urge to wipe them away, gently.

"I can't. Trust me, if I could, I would, but I just can't,"

"but-" Louis tried to reason.

"Simon is blackmailing me," There it was. The true confession. Perhaps this was the reason behind why Harry was so fucked up. Simon was messing with his head, forcing him to do things he did not want to do.

"Oh," was all Louis could answer, as he took a seat, next to Harry's shaking frame on the bed. Despite the mentor being the bigger of the two, he looked so small in the setting and lighting. So small and delicate and breakable. Louis could not help but stare, amazed by how different he looked.

"God I must look so stupid right now. You don't have to look at me," Harry turned his face away, sensing Louis's fascination, but he read the situation wrong. Louis was not staring because he thought the star looked stupid. In fact, it was the opposite.

"I think you look really pretty when you cry," he confessed. Harry slowly turned to glance at Louis, probably a little apprehensive of the compliment. Louis had never commented on his appearance before. He appeared even more surprised when Louis's hand caressed his cheek.

"Not as much as when you smile, but still pretty,"

Louis was not really sure what happened next, or how Harry's plump and velvety lips ended up on his slimmer, warm ones.

Elation percolated into Louis's veins and Harry continued to press his lips roughly and impenetrably onto the smaller lad. It sent wild tremors through him and he gasped. His entire body was taken over by the overwhelming feeling of relief, combined with eccentric panic, and lust. Harry's tongue forced open his mouth and Louis happily obliged, lapping up the taste of Harry. He was sweet and smokey and...

Salty.

Harry was salty.

Louis could taste his flowing tears. This was wrong. He was not in a good mental state and Louis should not be allowing his kisses. He quickly pulled away, causing Harry to gasp at the sudden loss of contact.

"Harry, no. you're upset and you're not thinking straight. Please don't," Louis gently pushed the boy away from him, whose gaze was wide and surprised.

"I'm sorry, god I'm sorry. I've fucked up again. I'm so-" Harry began to panic, his hands shaking and tears free-falling from his forest green eyes. They looked as if an ocean was encased inside of small glass marbles.

"Hey no it's okay. You're okay, we're okay," He took the larger man's hands and encased them in his own, trying to reassure him. Harry shook his head and the ocean started to leak, little water droplets streaming down his soft cheeks.

Louis then did something he would probably later regret. He grabbed the boy and pulled him in, arms surrounding his broken body. There was something so warm and right about the action, and he felt the rockstar's muscles loosen, as he breathed in Louis's distinct scent. He stroked the man's hair out of his face and cradled him like a cherished child, evaporating his hopelessness and loneliness. The familiar feeling was enough to make the boy from Doncaster forget who he was hugging.

It was no longer Harry Styles: The Rockstar.

It was Harry: a friend in need.

"Sleep with me tonight," He heard the boy mumble and he quickly pulled away, and sat his mentor in an upright position. The moment had been too good to last.

"Harry I don't think that's appropriate," He said, moving away from the star, who grabbed his hand, eyes pleading with him to stay.

"Not like that. It's just-" He watched Harry contemplate his words.

"I can't sleep alone and I really don't want anyone else around," He hung his head in shame and embarrassment and Louis moved back to where he was sitting previously, arm sat loosely around his mentor, as he continued to waffle. 

"You're the only person here and I don't wanna have to call someone. I mean I can, its no problem, but then they want sex and I don't really want that right now. I just want someone to hold me. I understand if that's not ok and it's overstepping, I just-" It came out in a flurry, and Louis could see the fear of judgement in his eyes.

"Okay," He agreed and Harry's mouth dropped open, unable to believe what he had heard. In a way, so was Louis. If someone had told him two days ago, that he would be agreeing to sleep in the same bed as Harry Styles, he would have laughed in their faces. He was going nowhere near that man, and yet, here he was; face to face with him.

"Wait what?" Harry blurted out. It was the first time Louis had seen him really lose his cool image. Sure, he had cried but there had been a slight hypnosis about it. It was still surreal and ethereal. Here, he seemed shy and dorky; a far cry from his rockstar persona.

"I'll sleep with you," Louis repeated, before removing his shoes, and shirt. Harry quickly closed his mouth and glanced down, flushing slightly. The sight would have made Louis feel a little smug, if it wasn't for the tear tracks still present on his face.

No words were uttered as the two fell into bed, Louis's chest rising and falling against Harry's back and their breaths in unison. They melted into one another, heat clashing and mixing. The ocean was, once again, meeting the forest, and this time, there was no conflict, no fight, just peace.

A comfortable silence filled the room and they allowed themselves to drift off into slumber.


	11. XI

A cold, hair-raising breeze caused Louis to shudder and burrow deeper into the soft linen sheets and mountains of pillows. He breathed in their unfamiliar scent and frowned. Vanilla, tobacco blossom, and mixed spices surrounded him, both comforting and reminding him that this was NOT his bed.

Louis's eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, dazed and concerned. He was definitely not in his bedroom.

The room was big, too big, and sparse, and lacking in any personality. The walls were white and clinical, too clean and matte to be lived in, and the hardwood floors gave a sense of coldness. There wasn't much furniture in the room, apart from a huge king sized, four poster bed, some nightstands and a few plants. No artwork donned the walls and no unusual artefacts sat on the windowsills. It was hard to grasp that this was Harry's room, especially when the rest of the house seemed so personal and homely. This seemed like a hotel room, one that Louis was apparently a guest in.

He could not help but wonder why Harry chose to keep his own bedroom, the most personal room in the house, so bland.

He would have asked the Cheshire lad, but after taking in the scenery, the second thing that he noticed was that he was, in fact, alone. Replacing Harry's warm body was a handwritten note addressed to Louis in beautiful, cursive handwriting. It read:

_Dear Louis,_

_I'm writing this whilst you sleep next to me. Did you know that you are a light snorer? It's very endearing. You also dribble slightly. That's slightly less endearing, but I'll let it slide because you're pretty._

_Thank you for last night. You staying here meant more than I can express. Sleeping alone has always been a great struggle for me, as embarrassing as that is to admit. I am not one for opening up, so be grateful that I did. I guess I don't hate you that much!_

_You're probably wondering where I am, and the answer is well.. not where I want to be. I'm most likely on a flight to Amsterdam, ready to play the starring role yet again. It gets so tiring, but I guess that's what happens when you sell your soul to the devil (yes, I'm referring to Simon). Taylor is probably already in The Netherlands, saying farewell to her boyfriend, Joe, and being debriefed on how to act and what to do. This is my fate as well._

_I'm not like you._

_I wish I was._

_I wish I was able to say no and argue, and fight my way out of problematic situations._

_But I'm not._

_I'm too vulnerable and too easy to manipulate. I guess that's why the higher powers in the music industry like me so much haha._

_Here's some advice: DON'T wear your heart on your sleeve. They'll take it from you and rip it to shreds, until they smell blood. And once blood is spilt, they'll circle like vultures, crowding and pressuring you. There's no escape, until they've ripped every piece of meat off of your bones._

_I'm a walking skeleton right now, Louis, and they still want to tear me limb from limb._

_Do me a favour? Don't look at any pap photos from tonight and don't read any articles. Please remember that is all an act. We're just very good at hiding the truth (we've both done it for long enough.)_

_Please continue to practise, in prep for the live shows. You're incredibly talented, and I know that you'll go far in life, without interference from a creep like Simon._

_I'll see you soon._

_With love,_

_Harry Edward Styles_

_xx_   
  


Louis stared at the slightly crumpled note, written on cream paper with the Gucci label sitting proudly at the top, and the soft calligraphy. Was this really from Harry? He took a waft of the letter, and the familiar forest-like scent hit his nostrils and he breathed it in, both comforted, and alarmed by the personal nature of the message.

What did this mean? Were him and Harry ok now? Were they friends? Did Louis even want to be friends with someone as problematic as mr styles?

He shook his head, trying to shake away the feelings in his head, and raced back to his room, seeking warmth in his own surroundings.

Sometime later, there was a knock on his door, and Ashe popped her head around it, hesitant and a little nervous. He wondered what there was to be nervous about. Her gorgeous smile was caked across her face, in a suspicious manner and she crept into his room, slowly.

"You weren't in your room last night," She commented, manner-of-factly. Louis's eyebrow raised and he tilted his head back, so it rested on his headboard.

"And how would you know that," He replied, playfully, shuffling in his bed slightly, so she could join him. She took the offer and sent him a small smile, as she slid in next to him.

"I knocked on your door to ask if you wanted some hot chocolate and you didn't answer," The brightly coloured quilt covering Louis's made bed (another indication he had not slept in his room) was wrapped around her fingers, as she played with a loose string.

Louis was not quite sure how to answer her. She was right. Louis had not been in his bed but...

"Where were you?" She asked shyly, and Louis's eyes widened.

Panic coursed through his blue veins as he tried to come up with a good and realistic excuse, that did not involve Harry Styles in any way.

It was not like they had done anything, besides that lone, broken kiss, but the interaction had felt personal, and whilst Louis liked Ashe, he was not about to explain to her about how he had spent the night in their mentor's bed, for multiple reasons.

"I was at a friends'," He said quickly, hoping the ambiguity would not raise too much suspicion. Ashe did not appear convinced by the clear and blatant lie, but did not question him.

"Right," She said, emotionlessly. "I hope you had fun,"

Louis felt a little guilty, but if someone were to look up the definition of complicated in the dictionary, his and Harry's relationship would be at the top. Having someone else involved was a recipe for disaster, even if she was the nicest person Louis had ever met.

"Why don't we go and do something now," He suggested, trying to break the tension. It seemed to work and Ashe's face lit up like a Christmas tree. She nodded enthusiastically, and leapt from his bed, forcefully tugging him with her. He chuckled at her child-like antics but did not resist the pull.

The two ended up in the music room, Ashe heading straight to the Steinway. It seemed that she was also taken by its beauty and musicality. Louis watched her stroke it like an endangered animal, soaking up its presence, her fingers delicately touching the keys, as if she was afraid that they would break. Louis supposed that he needed to be a bit more cautious with it. After extensive research, he had discovered that a vintage piano like that was worth millions. Despite him and Harry being friends (sort of), he had a feeling that the star would not be best pleased if he broke something of that worth.

She budged up on the piano stool so that he could join him and the two, wordlessly, began playing. Unlike Louis, Ashe was clearly classically trained, and her dainty fingers danced over the keys like ballerinas in swan lake. Louis's method, whilst still graceful, was a little unorthodox. But that did not matter. The sounds coming from the Steinway drowned out any worry and juxtaposition. The two must have played mindlessly for hours, until, suddenly Ashe stopped.

"Are you ok?" Louis asked, concerned, turning towards her. Nerves riddled her face and her hands seemed shaky and unsure. Louis had never seen her like this. Confidence normally oozed off her like butter. It wasn't arrogance like Harry, but it made her friendly and approachable.

This was incredibly out of character.

He watched as her eyes fell on his lips and his own ocean eyes widened. He knew what was about to happen, and braced himself.

Her teeth clashed with his, enthusiastically, and her lips were soft and warm. She tasted like roses and chocolate and femininity. It was enough to cause Louis to bolt from his seat, horrified, and he hastily wiped his mouth with his sweater paws.

Ashe's eyes had apparently been closed and they snapped open. He watched her face crumple with embarrassment as she turned away, to try and hide her reddening cheeks. Crystal tears were already forming in her eyes and they reflected in the artificial lighting, like a beacon of regret.

Louis could not help but feel sorry for her, and a little guilty about his extreme reaction. He knew what it was like to be rejected, and the feeling was horrible. It clawed at your gut and sent you tumbling down a dark rabbit hole. He knew that she was probably overthinking, tearing herself apart, trying to work out what was wrong with her. Louis did not want that. 

"Ashe," He whispered, trying to get her to look at him. His voice was gentle and understanding, if a little tentative. He was not sure how she'd react to the rejection, and was scared to say the wrong thing.

"There is nothing wrong with you, I promise it's just-"

"What? It's not you, it's me?" She supplied, chuckling sadly, her white hair hiding her crimson face. He watched as the water fell from her beautiful eyes and into her lap, causing a small puddle. He wondered how many times that she had cried, and if her soft, delicate tears could fill a swimming pool. He hoped not.

"No no no. Not at all," He said quickly, shaking his head wildly.

"Trust me, you are gorgeous, but I'm not into girls. I'm gay," Louis confessed. He watched her face slowly emerge from behind her beautiful, icy hair and her tears begin to subside.

"Oh my god!" She exclaimed, and a chuckle escaped her lips. "I thought you were gay when I first met you, but then I saw your wardrobe and I was like... surely not,"

Louis laughed at the comment. It was true. For a gay guy, he had a horrendous taste in fashion: Baggy jeans, muscles tee, ripped t shirts littered his small, and old clothes collection, and dirty vans seemed to be the only footwear he owned. He did not exactly fit the gay stereotype, but then again, he did not want to. Louis had never been one to conform to any role: not at school, not in music, and certainly not in his sexuality.

"I cannot believe I just kissed you. I'm so sorry," Ashe gasped again, and hid her face in her hands. Louis patted her on the back softly and laughed, as if to say 'we've all been there'

"Hey love, you have no judgement from me. I can guarantee I've done worse. I slept with me teacher,"

Ashe removed her face, and her eyes widened at the revelation.

Louis thought back to Mr Perkins and a smirk appeared on his face. His history teacher had been gorgeous. He had been in his late thirties, and wore tailored suits every day. He had cheekbones to die for, and floppy, curly brown hair, that cascaded down his face like Niagara falls. Louis had been smitten the minute he had introduced himself.

The two had always been friendly with each other, but when Louis came out halfway through sixth form, the dynamic had changed slightly. Louis had offered to stay after class more to help Mr Perkins put up displays and his teacher insisted that he called him by his first name: Jamie. Louis was not going to argue with that offer.

They were extremely touchy feely with each other, but Mr Perkins had seemed hesitant to act on their obvious attraction to one another. That all changed when...

"We matched on Grindr, and I thought, why not?" He shrugged it off as if it was no big deal, but Ashe seemed to think it was and he could tell that her interest had peaked.

"Did you, at least, get good grades after?" She chuckled, and Louis let out a giggle. An actual giggle. It had been a while since he'd done one of them. He could not help it, when he thought back to his teacher.

After that night, the awkwardness shared between the two had been hilarious. Whilst Louis did not care, (It had not been the first time he'd slept with a teacher), Mr Perkins clearly had some regrets, and he had taken to 'forgetting' Louis's name and referring to him as the loud one (He was definitely right in that respect) before he eventually requested Louis changed classes, for being a 'disruption'.

"If I did, I'd be at engineering or medical school right now, and not in some shitty singing contest,"

==

The two sat in Ashe's room, cuddling as they listened to music. The awkward kiss that they had shared was long since forgotten, and they were both having cups of coffee as they flicked through the channels hoping to find something of interest.

As Ashe continued to press the remote, they stumbled upon a gossip news channel, and Louis sucked in a breath, unable to take his eyes off of the screen. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his friend's finger hovering over the channel-change button, and he grabbed the remote, shoving it behind him in slight desperation and panic. Ashe was about to protest when her eyes flicked to what Louis was looking at.

Staring back at them was a red carpet, full of the most beautiful people on the planet, and slap bang in the middle, was a magnetic couple.

Their smiles dazzled cameras and outshone their peers. Their matching red outfits clashed in the most magnificent way with the carpet, and the way they looked at each other was breathtaking.

The sight made Louis want to throw up.

He watched red lips kiss the cheek of the man who he had shared a bed with, just a day prior. He watched as the man's large, strong arms engulfed her, with love and affection. He watched their matching wedding bands dance and dazzle in the moonlight, reflecting the flashes of the paparazzi.

Something washed over him, and he excused himself to go to the bathroom.

That's when he did something Harry explicitly asked him not to do.

He searched up Harry and Taylor's name and watched as the images flooded his teary vision. Their touches were gentle and soft; their eyes happy and blissful.

He needed to stop immediately. Every new image was like a punch to the gut.

Deep down, Louis knew that it was all fake. Harry Styles was gay, and Taylor Swift had a secret boyfriend called Joe, but looking at these pictures made it very hard to believe Harry's words. Either the star was a very good actor, or there was some genuine affection there.

It did not help that Taylor looked absolutely gorgeous. She was in her trademark colour: a crimson floor length dress and some sparkly louboutin heels, elongating her already pristine legs. Hanging from her perfect lobes were diamonds set in white gold. They were exquisite, accentuating the length of her neck. Louis could not help but think about how they probably cost more than his yearly salary.

A feeling washed over him, and made him uncomfortable and afraid. For once, he did not look at Harry with distaste. In fact, it was the opposite. The star looked beautiful in his bright red suit, and his smile could light up a room. His hair had been styled in its normal 'i just rolled out of bed and I look this good' manner and he wore red glitter eyeliner around his green, forest coloured eyes. It was enough to have Louis practically drooling. He longed to be there on the carpet, to see him in that outfit, with that smile, but he wasn't. He was stuck in Harry's home, watching the star's arm wrap around the waist of a woman.

The images hurt a lot, and Louis was quickly coming to the realisation... He was jealous.

Not of Harry and his success for once, but of Taylor.

As he walked out of the bathroom, tears streaming down his face, he had reached the gutting, heart renching conclusion:

Louis Tomlinson was going to get hurt by Harry Styles.


	12. XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy luvs x

To say that Louis Tomlinson was extremely upset over the pictures from Amsterdam would be the understatement of the year. The boy had not eaten in two days and had thrown himself into preparation for the live shows.

He was willing to do anything to get Harry's smiling, affectionate face out of his mind. He'd even tried to pour his emotions into a song, but nothing quite encapsulated how he felt. It seemed that the boy was living in his head, rent free.

He'd expressed as such to Niall, who had actually listened very well, and not interrupted, which was rare for the Irish Lad. Sure, he'd called him a 'fookin idiot' for getting too attached, too quickly, to a man who clearly did not care for him, but he was still pretty impartial in his advice. In fact, his antidote to the whole situation was to get blackout drunk at a club of his choosing.

Louis, who had not seen Niall for weeks, was game, obviously. He just was not sure how to get into London from the mansion in the middle of no where.

He considered an Uber, but after seeing the extortionate price, he wondered if there was another option, hence knocking on the door of Harry's assistant at 7pm that night.

"Harry. I didn't know you'd come back this early I-oh How can I help you?" He asked, with a tight smile. Louis took in his appearance. It was different to how he usually saw the assistant. He was less put together and looked exhausted. Guilt formed in Louis's mind. Had he just woken this poor man up?

"Hi. I'm sorry to disturb you. It's just- well- I'm going out tonight to Tape in London, and I was wondering how I'd get there," Harry's assistant raised his eyebrows and looked at Louis up and down. The look made him feel a little self-conscious and he wrapped his arms tightly around his stomach.

"You're going to Tape? Have you got an invitation?" He asked, as if it was a most obvious question in the world. In all honesty, Louis was not quite sure what Tape was and had not wanted to look it up.

It was all part of Niall's 'big plan'.

"No, my best mate, Niall, reckoned we should just turn up," He replied, honestly. His Irish best friend and organisation did not really go hand in hand and Louis knew that he would not have even considered getting a ticket, let alone an invitation.

Harry's assistant sighed and ran a hand through his tawny hair, before shoving his hands in his grey tracksuit bottoms.

"Louis, you're gonna get turned away the minute you get there," He confessed. Surprisingly, he did not look agitated; only tired and a little delirious. Louis imagined that he had many sleepless nights, babysitting the infamous rockstar. He wondered just how many clubs the poor man had carried him from.

"Tape is one of the most exclusive nightclubs in London. They don't just let anyone in," He continued, explaining the situation. Louis groaned. What had Niall been thinking? Although, in some ways, it did not surprise him at all. Niall had managed to convince himself that Louis was now a celebrity, purely because he was in the live shows of Factor 28. Louis hated that. He was not successful. All he had done was get through a few rounds. It did not help that the little voice in the back of his head told him that he had only gotten through because Harry wanted to sleep with him.

There was currently a fine line between his success and self-doubt, and they seemed to balance with one another. One always reminding the other.

"But-,"

"Don't worry. I got you covered," The assistant smirked and walked out of his room. Louis followed closely behind, a little confused as to what was happening.

"Harry always has spare invitations. I use them all the time," He confessed, as he entered a dark room, which looked to be an office. He reached into the top drawer of a ugly, metal filing cabinet and pulled out an abundance of invitations, tickets and personal notes. Louis stared, wide-eyed. People would probably pay a pretty penny for those types of exclusive tickets, and here Harry was, with a huge wad of them.

"You've been to Tape?" He asked the assistant, a little surprised. It was hard to imagine him able to do anything else, other than run around after Harry, who was still a nightmare employer, even if he was growing on the lad from Doncaster.

Peeling him off cold, wet pavements was probably an every-week occurrence. It certainly looked that way from the paparazzi pictures.

"Yes, Louis. Contrary to popular belief, I do have a life outside of Harry Styles, even if it's short," His assistant replied, a little harsher than Louis had anticipated. He tried to apologise but he wasn't quite sure what to say.

"I didn't mean-"

Harry's assistant interrupted him and shook his head, in an oddly comforting manner.

"Don't worry. It's ok. My name is Jamie, by the way. Harry never formally introduced us," He held his hand out for Louis, who shook it gently. Unlike Harry, whose handshake was firm, but not too firm, Jamie's was a little limp, and created an aura of warmth and kindness. He wondered whether or not Harry had employed him for his organisational skills, or his motherly nature. He suspected the latter.

Harry Styles needed to be looked after.

What are you planning to wear?" He asked, after pulling his hand away from Louis, and wiping it on his sweats. Louis would have been offended, if it was not for his disgustingly clammy hands.

He was a little surprised by the question and looked down at his jeans and tank top that he had been planning to rock in all his five foot eight glory.

Jamies chuckled and shook his head, causing Louis's eyebrow to raise. He hated being laughed at and felt like he was the butt of the joke, even if the laugh was not malicious.

"You will get turned down for that, as well," Jamie answered matter-of-factly. Louis blushed and looked away. His mind wandered and he was looking at all those ratty clothes in his wardrobe that he had owned for five or six years. He could not afford new clothes, and that was an embarrassing confession, especially to an employee of Harry Edward Styles, Gucci brand ambassador, and one of the most iconic men in fashion.

"I don't have anything else,' He admitted, and refused to meet the assistant's eyes. Jamie sighed and took his head, sensing his unease and embarrassment.

"Come with me," He supplied, before dragging Louis through the house and up the stairs. Louis noticed the assistant take a quick glance at **_that_** door, before walking up the corridor, to another section of the house that Louis had yet to explore. It was an extension and did not quite fit in with the rest of the house.  


Jamie smiled as he opened the door at the end of the corridor and Louis gasped, taking in his surroundings. All around him were shoes and blazers, and jackets, and jeans, and every other piece of clothing you could think of. Behind translucent glass doors were beautiful, intricate pieces of jewellery. Diamonds, and emeralds shone brightly, reflecting against the dimmed mood-lighting of the room, and creating cascading rainbows falling onto the floor, in kaleidoscopic patterns and designs.

The room was easily ten times the size of Louis's own bedroom, back in Doncaster, and was full to the brim. That was when it hit him. Louis was not in a random walk-in wardrobe.

"Wait, isn't this Harry's closet?" He asked Jamie, who had already started rifling through Harry's clothes, pulling out numerous shirts, holding them up to Louis's skinny frame, before placing them back on their hangers. He seemed very unbothered by the fact that the two of them were in Harry's multi-million pound wardrobe without his permission.

"Wont he mind me taking his stuff?" Louis tried to reason, a little paranoid that an alarm was about to start ringing, alerting the police that there had been a break-in at Harry's mansion. Jamie just laughed and took in Louis's nervous persona.

"Firstly, have you seen the amount of clothes he has," He gestured to the room, that was full top to bottom of every type of clothing you could imagine.

"and secondly, I don't think he'd mind you borrowing his stuff, from what he's said about you," He let out a knowing smirk and winked. Louis flushed and wondered what exactly Harry had been saying, although he was not sure he wanted to know. He decided not to pry and the two continued to rifle through Harry's extensive wardrobe.

They eventually settled on a pair of Gucci sweatpants and a crisp white shirt that definitely cost more than most mortgage down-payments. Whilst Louis changed, Jamie explained how Harry had his own chauffeur who would happily drive Louis there and back from the club, without any issues. The situation was ideal, and whilst he felt a little apprehensive about having his own personal driver, the little voice in Louis's head was telling him to embrace it.

It was not like he was going to get another opportunity like this.

===

When Louis arrived outside of the club he was greeted by a long line of people, and Niall was nowhere in sight. He sighed and scanned the busy streets of London, for a strange Irish man, hoping one may appear. Niall was late to everything.

As he waited, Louis took in his surroundings. It was dark, and the gold sign that looked a little bit like a figure of eight shone like a beacon onto the bustling streets below. There was a sensory overload as the smell of car fumes mixed with the scent of a nearby takeaway curry house and the expensive perfumes of local girls hoping to charm their way into the club. The sounds of sirens battled with the excited cries of people at the front of the queue, and Louis could just about make out a homeless man at the end of the street, pleading for food. He chucked him a fiver, hoping that he would be able to find a warm meal for himself.

After five minutes of people watching, Louis heard a booming Irish voice.

"Nice to meet ya. What's your name?"

Louis laughed and wrapped his friend into a close hug. The two had always been affectionate with one another and Louis had missed having Nialler in his ear and up in his grill all of the time. His life had been eerily quiet without him.

"Ok, wow. This queue is long," Niall stared at the line full of hundreds of people and shot Louis a worried glance. The Doncaster lad just smirked knowingly and strode up to the bouncer, trying to keep his head up. Jamie had explained that confidence was key in order to get into this club.

"Queue's that way, pal," The bouncer snapped, and pointed down the street. Louis shook his head and pulled out one of those invitations from Jamie.

"I'm friends with Edward Cox," He whispered in the bouncer's ear. Louis had been told to say this by Harry's assistant, but he was not actually sure who that man was. He wondered if it was some form of code.

Nevertheless, it worked and the two were welcomed into the club without a second glance.

House and trap music bombarded them as they hit the dance floor, and Louis took a little step back, shocked by the noise. This place was surreal and made the clubs in the north look like his local Wetherspoons. Beautiful girls danced upon each other, hoping to catch male attention, and celebrities mingled with socialites. There was a small part in Louis's brain that thought that this club was very reminiscent of Harry's party, but the good music and incredible atmosphere drowned out any negative thoughts. Smoke filled the dance floor and strobe lighting pulsated against the whole room, neon flashes hitting him every so often.

Niall seemed just as impressed as Louis and gaped at his surroundings.

"This is fookin awesome," He gasped, before grabbing a drink from a tray. Louis was fairly sure that it was not complimentary, but he did not say anything. Now was the time to let Niall enjoy himself, and use the perks of having Harry Styles as his mentor. He was not about to disagree with his friend either. This club was incredible. Everything about it oozed fun and enjoyment. It was enough to make him forget about the broken but beautiful boy, and Louis let the music take control of his body.

===

Two hours later and Louis was sitting in the back of his fancy car, which featured blackout windows and incredibly comfortable seats. Whilst him and Niall had a great time, the lad from Doncaster made the decision not to get too drunk. There were people in that room he could work with one day, and he was not about to risk it all for a drunken night out with his best friend. Niall, on the other hand, had not been as sensible and Louis had shoved him into a taxi at 2am, him still mumbling the words to whatever dance track was on.

Despite Louis's babysitting of his little Irish friend, he still had had a great night. It made him forget about what was going on in his life, and feel like he was back in his hometown, partying until the golden sunrise. It was a nice feeling to have.

The car finally made its way back to Harry's mansion and dread filled Louis's gut, as he stared out of the passenger window. What he saw was not what he expected, nor was it good. Cars littered the rockstar's driveway and loud music could be heard banging and vibrating against the ancient timber that held the Tudor inspired home together. This was not promising.

Not at all.

Louis hastily made his way out of the car and thanked the driver, before jogging towards the door. For some unknown reason, he was afraid of what he was going to see. Had people broken into Harry's house? Had his fellow contestants thrown a party without him knowing?

The music seemed to be coming from the pool room, which appeared to be the place where every party was held, and without a second thought Louis stormed through the house, searching for the source of the loud racket.

As soon as he opened the door to the pool, he was hit with a loud bass which caused his stomach to grumble and ears to ring. Bodies were pressed against one another, yearning for some form of comfort or touch, grinding to the overly erotic music. It was hard to navigate through the crowds but Louis tried his best to cut through everyone, searching for someone (anyone) who he recognised.

That was when he saw him.

It was probably the most devastating thing that Louis had ever witnessed.

Harry Edward Styles was virtually passed out.

Louis had seen Harry high before, but this was another level, and the most disturbing part was not his physical state, but those around him. As Louis drew closer, he noticed three girls desperately trying to get him to take more pills. They whispered in his ear, and stroked his curly hair, desperate for his attention. But it appeared as if the rockstar had lost the ability to focus, let alone communicate with someone. He was one pill away from an overdose. Louis was sure of it.

"Harry?" He asked tentatively, and nervously, afraid that Harry would not even have the ability to answer him.

"Louis?" The star mumbled, and Louis nodded his head quickly, drawing closer to the star. The girls surrounding him eyed the smaller lad territorially, but he sent them all death glares and they allowed him to get closer. He grabbed his hand and felt the rockstar squeeze it, weakly, but he was glad he still had some control over his limbs.

"I tried to find you earlier but you weren't there, and I was lonely," Louis swallowed and looked around at the scenes surrounding him. Had he thrown this party to try and comfort himself? Was this Louis's fault? He knew the thoughts were unreasonable. Harry has Louis's number and made no effort to contact him, but he still felt guilty

Harry was oblivious to his worries and tried to lean in closer, but he was too unstable to do so.

I'm tired, Lou. I want to sleep," Harry confessed, finally collapsing into Louis's shoulder.

He was hot and sweaty and his lips and cheeks were covered in various shades of lipstick. Ashy and grey tones littered his skin and he appeared half dead. The boy honestly looked exhausted.

The girls seemed not to hear Harry's pleas and one of them physically tried to put a pill into his mouth, as he leaned into Louis for comfort, brown hair sprayed all over the place.

"What are you doing?" Louis demanded, eyes widening at the girls' behaviour. "Get off of him!"

"Relax grandma. We're all having fun here," she cackled, her green eyes piercing and venomous. It was a vast contrast to the beautiful forest that Harry possessed, and it made Louis even angrier. The other two girls nodded and their long legs shone against the strobe light, shiny and pristine.

"Louis," Harry mumbled into his shoulder. "I want to go to bed. There's too many people,"

It was at this point Louis made a decision that he would not have made if he had not had a bit of liquid courage at the club.

All five foot eight of him stormed over to the DJ booth and grabbed the microphone. The music ground to a halt and the eager bodies pressed against one another paused, to see what the commotion was.

"I want everyone out in 30 seconds or I ring the police," Louis announced.

Those words brought the room to life, figures darting back and forth in panic, trying to find their friends. It seemed as though everyone was taking his threat seriously and girls were running out of the door without shoes and boys without shirts. If it had been a different situation, the scene would have been comedic, but right now it was anything but.

It took less than a minute for the room to clear, and all that was left was Louis and Harry, and clothes littered around the room.

The rockstar's head was leaning against a chair, and he looked close to passing out. Louis sighed at how much of a mess he was, before grabbing him and lifting him up.

Harry was a lot bigger than Louis and it was a struggle to get him up the stairs, but eventually he managed, and laid him down gently into his bed. The star was passed out, before his head even hit the pillow.

Once back into his own room, Louis could not help but speculate why Harry had allowed himself to get into that state. It was much worse than before, boarding on an ambulance being called, and he wondered why. Harry had seemed so happy with Taylor in Amsterdam, even if she was a beard, so why did he choose to get smashed the minute he came back?

The biggest question on Louis's mind, however, was 'why didn't he tell me he was back?'


	13. XIII

Louis wished he had slept. He wished that he had been able to shut his eyes and let dreams whisk him off to another realm. He wished that his brain had shut off and let him rest, even for a brief moment, but he hadn't.

Instead, the boy had spent the night tossing and turning, worrying about Harry. He'd even purposely left their conjoining door slightly ajar, so he could hear the man's breathing. Logically, Louis knew that he would be fine, but that small little voice in the back of his head worried that something bad would happen. And so, there he was, at nine in the morning, with absolutely no sleep in his system.

In truth, he had been waiting for the sound of movement in the rockstar's room, so he could check on him again. It was not that he wanted to see Harry's morning face. It definitely wasn't. Louis could not care less about his tousled curls and sleepy eyes.

Eventually, he heard a small groan from the other room, and he shot out of bed, his mind instantly forgetting his lack of sleep. He paused, and waited for the sound of movement. The soft patter of feet could be heard on the cold hardwood floor, and Louis breathed a sigh of relief. Harry was awake and alive. A small part of him wanted to go to the door, and make sure he was Okay. He wanted to put him back to bed and bring him breakfast, but he knew he could not do that. That would be crossing the invisible line that he had drawn for himself.

Instead, Louis crept out of bed, careful not to step on any creaking floorboards. He really did not want to bring attention to the fact that he was awake, and had been for a very long time. He tread on his tiptoes, as he snuck down the stairs, eager for breakfast. It was early, and he knew that the chef probably would not be awake, but he did not mind. You did not exactly need a trained cook to make coco-pops.

He slipped into a breakfast bar stool, lazily with a bowl of his favourite cereal in front of him. The lack of sleep was finally getting to him and he let out an incredibly loud yawn.

The lad from Doncaster had been unaware of the presence of someone behind him, until he heard a throat clear. His eyes widened and whipped around, straining his neck.

Harry was standing in front of him, awkwardly. All he wore was an oversized t-shirt and it showed off his long legs that seemed to stretch like a long stretch of freeway in the United States. Louis's eyes were entranced by them, taking in the tanned skin, and light dusting of hair.

If he had not been so mesmerised by the star's legs, he would have seen his expression, and not been so surprised when he let his wrath free.

"I cannot believe the audacity of you," He snapped, and Louis's eyes flicked from Harry's legs to his face. The singer's curly hair was a mess on the top of his head, and a section had flopped down into his face. The sight of Harry in the morning truly was breathtaking. It was a shame his angry face was ruining it all.

"Sorrywhat _?_ " Louis asked, wondering if he had been so distracted that he had managed to miss half of the conversation. He was fairly sure he had not.

Harry rolled his eyes, and stalked closer to the smaller lad, who was still perched on the stool.

"How dare you cancel _my_ party in _my_ home," Harry continued, his eyes narrowing in on him. Louis looked back, shocked and a little confused. Did Harry not remember asking him to end the party?

"Harry, you were absolutely wasted, and that party was out of hand," He replied, trying to keep his voice level and nonchalant. In truth, Louis was pretty hurt by Harry's misplaced anger. All he had wanted to do was help, and instead, he was being treated like the most hated person on the planet.

"I don't care. Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? You threatened to call the police on my friends, Louis" Harry's rant continued, blissfully unaware of Louis's inner pain. His eyes were like a forest, burning: oranges and reds swirling against the typical calming green. He looked villainous and serpentine, with his eyes narrowed, and his hissing words.

"Harry, I'm sorry, but you were one pill away from getting your stomach pumped," Louis tried to reason with him, although he knew that, deep down, the argument was pointless. Harry Styles did not listen to anyone.

"I don't need a babysitter," Harry snapped, his face now inches away from Louis.

"And I certainly don't need you," He spat in Louis's face, and the smaller boy's face and heart dropped and shattered, like fine china hitting a concrete floor.

There was a tension between the two of them, as their billowing breaths crashed into one another, but it was unlike their other arguments. The two were not pining for each other, there was no sexual chemistry, no electricity or spark, as they yearned for each other's touch. Harry Styles hated Louis Tomlinson, and Louis Tomlinson was gutted.

As he sat there, staring back at a man he had thought he had been falling for, he wondered what he had been thinking. Harry was ungrateful, and selfish, and Louis was tired of dealing with it. Pretending not to care, he turned his back on the star and continued to munch on his breakfast. It was only when Louis heard stomping footsteps on the stairs that he released the breath that he been holding.

===

An angry moan escaped Louis's throat as his vocal teacher corrected him again. He had made the same mistake three times in a row, and he was trying to fix it, but he was too distracted. His mind was elsewhere and it was affecting his performance.

His teacher was brilliant. She was loud and dynamic, and had helped Louis reach a part of his voice that he was not even aware that he possessed, but her facial expressions were extremely easy to read. Louis was sounding like a drowning cat, and concern was written across her face. His performance was tomorrow.

She asked Louis about his diet and sleeping pattern, and he confessed that they were non-existent. She sighed, and tied her mousy brown hair up into a bun, before breaking into a lecture about sleep health and the importance of nutritional food.

He tried to listen, he really did, but Louis's mind continued to wander back to Harry, and their one-sided argument. He still was not sure what he had actually done. All he had wanted to do was look out for him, surely Harry knew that.

Louis's vocal teacher cleared her throat and he shook his head, as he was physically removing the thoughts from his brain and focused. All he had to do was sing that line again. How hard could it be?

"But I crumble completely when you cry. It seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye,"

Finally Louis nailed the line and his vocal teacher's face lit up with pride, and a lot of relief.

"That was so much better. You're such an emotive singer," She praised him, and he blushed, ducking his head. He never did well with praise.

They continued to rehearse, Louis finally getting to grips with compartmentalisation. Harry Styles was now in the back of his brain and would not be leaving there for the foreseeable future. He was sure of that. His vocal teacher continued to nick pick at certain phrasing, but soon Louis was flowing through the song like it was his own. Something about the lyrics spoke to him and had him entranced. He felt every emotion and every thought process behind the words. His coach continued to clap and give her seal of approval at certain lines, and Louis continued to blush, not used to the praise.

The two had been going over the song for over an hour, when a soft knock was heard on the door. Louis's eyes found the clock, wondering if the lesson was already over. It wasn **'** t. They had another forty minutes. He frowned and looked at his teacher, who shrugged before going to the door.

"Carol," A deep and raspy voice called out, friendly and open.

Louis's head snapped from the clock to the man at the door so fast he got whiplash.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I was just wanting to borrow Louis," He continued, batting his stupidly long eyelashes at the coach. The woman rolled her eyes, obviously immune to his charms. Louis was envious. He wished he had the ability to resist Harry Styles.

"No, not at all. I was actually going to finish our session early. Louis is nailing this song. Great choice, H," She replied kindly. Something about their interaction told Louis that they had known each other for a very long time. He wondered about their past and how their paths had first crossed.

Harry beamed and turned to look at Louis.

"I'm glad to hear it," He said earnestly, and Louis looked away, his gaze focused on the floor. Harry did not have the right to see him blush, like a beetroot.

"Right, I'm going to go. I'll see you in a few days, Louis. Remember what I said about pronunciation,"

Louis nodded at Carol, and tried to send her a pleading expression. He did not want to be alone with Harry, following their awful interaction. He would rather be _anywhere_ but stuck in a room with him. Carol failed to read his expression, and was out the room before Louis even blinked.

Now it was just the two of them, in a big room full of silence, and the only sounds were unspoken truths.

"Hi," Harry supplied, trying to break the deafening noise of nothingness. Louis nodded, showing that he had acknowledged the greeting, but he did not dare meet Harry's eyes. He did not need to break down.

"Carol says you're golden," Harry continued and Louis frowned slightly, confused by the statement.

"you know. Because your voice is special. She calls you the golden boy," Louis raised his eyebrows at that. He doubted that Carol called him that. She was not exactly a poet, and kept what she said clear and precise. Who would even refer to someone as golden?

"Look, Louis. I get that you're angry with me. I'd be angry as well, but this silent treatment is really childish," Louis scoffed. Harry had a lot of nerve, calling him a child, after he had babysat his drugged out ass.

"I'm sorry ok?" Harry noticed Louis's disgust, and sighed, taking a seat at the piano. The words sounded foreign coming out of his mouth.

"I was embarrassed that you had seen me in that state, and I took that out on you. It wasn't ok," He confessed, and his face fell into his hands. His long, curly hair cascaded like a waterfall, and hid his forlorn expression.

"No, it wasn't," Louis said, trying not to let Harry manipulate him again. He leaned against the wall, his short torso appearing even smaller. Harry had that effect on him.

"I don't like getting help from people. I hate it. Especially when it's from people I care about," Louis raised an eyebrow at the confession, before he let out a scoff, and shook his head in disbelief.

"You don't care about me," He replied back, his voice surprisingly rough and harsh. The tone caused Harry to look up, and he used a hand to remove his unstyled hair from his face.

"I do, Louis," He replied, meeting the boy's eyes. Emeralds gleamed into sapphires; the two precious stones shining bight in an otherwise dull and empty world.

"You've gotten under my skin, and I can't shake you. Hell, today I woke up, and _you_ were the first thought in my head," A chuckle escaped Harry's lips, as if he could quite believe what he was confessing to.

Neither could Louis.

This was Harry Styles. A few weeks ago, he had hated his guts and yet, here they were.

"At least you slept," Lous mumbled, trying not to let the excitement of Harry's admission show on his face. In truth, It was what he had dreamed of hearing. Harry felt the same.

"Huh?" The rockstar said, his head tilting in confusion.

"I haven't slept in days. Not since I saw those pictures of you in Amsterdam with _her_ ," Louis froze the minute he said it. Harry had not needed to know that. It was an embarrassing confession, and he was going to receive judgement for it, no doubt.

"Why were you looking at them? I told you not to," The star all but growled. Louis's mind wandered back to the letter, and he blushed slightly. It was hidden in his nightstand, and was already creased from the amount of times he had read over it.

"Why do you think?" He asked rhetorically. He pushed himself off of the wall, and began to stalk closer and closer to the star. It was as if his body was on autopilot, and moving without his permission.

"Look, you're not the only one who has someone under their skin. Harry, you're this itch I can't quite scratch, and seeing those pictures: they **...** " Louis paused to collect his thoughts. He was not about to cry over something so trivial, and yet his admission had been true. Harry Styles was buried deep under his skin, and eating at him from the inside.

"It really fucking hurt ok? I don't know why, but it did," He ended his confession, with his shoulders slumped and his head down. He truly was pathetic.

"I'm sorry," the star supplied, sensing Louis's obvious distress. The lad from Doncaster did not seem to hear him, however.

"My mind was literally screaming, and I was so fucking _jealous_ ," He admitted, and his voice cracked on the last word. He heard Harry rise from the stool, but he did not dare look up.

"Don't be," He said gently, the gap between them shrinking.

"Why?" Louis asked, his head tilting in confusion. Harry smirked, and chuckled, causing Louis to finally look up.

"Because it's you that I want,"

Harry surged forward, his lips attacking Louis like a wild animal. The boy gasped at the sudden contact, and moaned at the electricity shared between the two of them. Harry's mouth sent wild tremors along his nerves, and created sensations he had never been aware he could feel. It was different to their other kisses, less angry, and more desperate.

In the silence of the room, all Louis could hear was Harry's hot breath against his face, and his own hammering heartbeat. Outside, there was a gentle patter of rain beginning to fall from the heavens, and Louis smiled gently before pushing his tongue into the taller man's mouth.

Harry was like an aphrodisiac, and Louis was drunk on him. He could not get enough. They had just opened Pandora's box, and were now trapped in each other, unable to escape. Neither wanted to.

The two briefly pulled away, and Louis basked in the image of Harry's heavy-lidded eyes and slightly messy hair. The sight made him swallow, and he moved down to the star's neck. A small moan escaped from between his lips as Louis nipped at a sensitive spot just below his ear lobe. He smirked at that, before making his devious way down to suck a love bite on Harry's sun kissed skin.

"Upstairs," Harry growled, his voice deep and rough. He sounded like sex, and the sound made Louis weak at the knees. He nodded, pulling away from Harry's neck, quickly pausing to admire his handiwork. He smirked at the purpling bruise forming, before following the star out of the room, and up the stairs into Harry's bedroom.


	14. XIV

Soft curls gently caressed Louis's cheek, pulling him from a deep slumber, and he felt surrounded by warmth. His arms were wrapped around something tightly, and he opened his eyes, slowly, to see what was going on. Tanned limbs tangled themselves in his paler ones, and the scent of vanilla was strong and made Louis dizzy on endorphins.

Midnight memories of the night before flashed through his brain, and he smirked a little. Who knew Harry could be so loud.

Louis had not felt this content in a long time. Strangely, his strained relationship with Harry had blossomed into so much more, and his heart felt full.

The man beside him stirred, and groaned a little, burying himself deeper into Louis's arms. Louis hugged him tight to his chest, still quite unsure if he was in reality. He kissed Harry's curls, and chuckled, as he battered his face away.

"Good morning," Louis said, smitten.

The man beneath slowly untangled himself from Louis's limbs and sat up, assessing the room. His eyes widened in realisation, and he jumped out of bed. Louis tried but failed to hide his grin, after seeing Harry wince a little. He was still absolutely wrecked.

"Hi, Louis," He replied, awkwardly, standing in front of the smaller man, completely naked. Louis's eyes flicked up and down, staring at his torso, and he batted his long eyelashes at the man, hoping it would tempt him to get back to bed.

It seemed to have the opposite effect, and Harry rushed to grab a robe, covering himself completely.

Louis tried to mask his disappointment through a joke, but it fell flat.

"That's a shame. I was enjoying the view," He laughed, but was met with a look of distaste from his mentor.

"You need to go," Harry replied, grabbing Louis's clothes from the floor and chucking them onto the bed, carelessly. Louis blinked once, then twice, then again.

"Excuse me?" He said, not quite sure if he had heard the man correctly. Harry seemed to be looking everywhere but at Louis. His eyes flitted from wall to wall, and towards the still half drawn curtains. The sky seemed overcast, and Louis suspected that it was going to rain. That was not exactly much of a change from England's normal weather, but Louis could not help but wonder if it was giving some foresight in the conversation he was about to have with the rockstar.

"You heard me. It's the first live show today, and I don't need you fucking up my schedule," Harry finally turned to look at Louis, and his face was stone cold. There was an absence of any emotion in his eyes, and he was once again putting on a front. There were not many other scary sights, especially when Harry was sober, and still able to fake his feelings.

"Oh, ok. I just thought-" Louis had no idea what his thoughts were. He had never been so confused about a situation. Did he expect him and Harry to get breakfast? Were they now together? He wouldn't have minded either option. The star seemed to read his mind, however, and scoffed.

"Don't get it twisted, Louis. We're not in a relationship," He said, his voice void of any feeling whatsoever. The words hurt Louis and he tried his hardest not to bolt at the statement. It was embarrassing and degrading.

He tried to defend himself, slightly offended by Harry's assumption.

"I didn't say-"

The star interrupted him, however, before he could speak further. 

"good because I don't do relationships," He snapped back, harshly. Louis flushed and looked at the floor. The words hurt him a lot. It was not like he had envisioned him and Harry in a long lasting relationship, one day, but it still hurt to hear those words come out of his mouth. It was like he was dismissing Louis completely.

"oh," He replied quietly, not sure what else to say. He stayed still, on the bed, simply staring at the star who was busying himself around the room, seemingly on edge about something.

"Why are you still sitting there? Go," He snapped, and Louis was torn, harshly, from his daydreams, and hastily stood up, a little startled by the aggressive demand.

"Sorry," He muttered, before grabbing his clothes that Harry had carelessly thrown at him, humiliated.

Tears threatened his vision as he bolted for the door. He could not believe that he had slept with Harry Styles. How could he have been that stupid? Violent hands grasped at his stomach and twisted hard, forcing him to gasp for breath. Something inside was ripped and bleeding. Like a wounded animal, he limped away, heart dragging behind him. Again, he found himself deep in the woods, unable to see daylight, manipulated and beaten.

Deep down he had known. Forests and oceans don't mix, especially when you're both already drowning

===

Louis was rocking back and forth on his heels, full of anxiety. The live show had just begun and James Corden was speaking cheerfully, to the audience and camera. The judges had already taken their seats at their desks, following an extravagant entrance, bordering on the Avantgarde. Harry seemed unbothered over the incident that occurred between the two of them that morning, and was forcing yet another smile. Louis tried not to look at his eyes. He already knew he was high, by how he carried himself. He did not need to see those big pupils hiding his beautiful emeralds.

Tearing his mind away from Harry, he ran over the lyrics to the song again, and remembered the advice that Carol had given him. He'd be fine. He just had to remember to pronounce the words in his own accent, in order to make the song his own.

To the right of him he spotted Liam and Zayn sparking conversation with Jamie, Harry's assistant, and he cringed. He wondered if Harry had told them about what had happened. Had they laughed at his expense? Had they called him a slut? It was not like he had not experienced that before, but it was different, when these were international superstars.

"Louis?" A production assistant raised her eyebrows at his intense staring towards the two stars and he flushed quickly looking away, embarrassed that he had been caught.

"You're on in a few minutes, so I'd get into position," She smiled politely, and tapped him on the shoulder. He nodded and breathed in, trying to control his snakiness. She then pulled him in, so her mouth was by his ear.

"Between you and me, you're my favourite. Go out there and smash it," Louis flushed and nodded quickly. Whether it was true or not, it gave Louis a needed confidence boost, and he stalked towards the stage with a new purpose.

Harry did not wanna be with him? That was fine. He would just have to show him what he was missing.

The music began slowly, and as Louis began to sing, a spotlight hit him. His voice was raw and exposed, and under the harsh light, he looked like an angel. HIs white shirt shone against the black background, and the rings that his stylist had insisted he wore, sparkled, sending kaleidoscopic rainbows across the floor and towards one of the cameras, as his hands gripped the microphone hard. He looked directly at the lens, seductively, before his gaze landed on the judges. Harry wasn't meeting his eye, but he did not care. He kept his concentration on the other three.

Behind him, he heard the dancers enter and felt hands caress his body, pulling and pushing at his clothes. He turned towards one of the female dancers, and their lips were inches away, as choreographed. Showmanship was not normally what Louis was into, but these dancers, with this song, in this setting, all came together in a beautiful manner.

"I **'** m going back to 505 If it **'** s a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive," He almost moaned into the mic. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry squirm in his seat. Good.

"In my imagination you **'** re waiting, lying on your side, With your hands between your thighs," His eyes fell towards the camera again and he winked.

That was when the music flipped and lighting turned a deep red. Louis ripped the mic from the stand and the dancers began to move against one another, in an ocean sway, limbs on limbs. The audience erupted into cheers, and Louis could not help but break into a smile. This was what he had dreamed of experiencing. It was beautiful, and magical, and he never wanted to stop. He moved to the left of the stage, and began to pour his heart into the lyrics, eyes closing and music taking over.

"But I crumble completely when you cry. It seems like once again you **'** ve had to greet me with goodbye,"

The atmosphere around him buzzed and Louis was on the verge of tears. He had never experienced a feeling like this before. He went about the stage with a brazen assurance. This was what he was born to do. He moved from the left, towards the right, and heard girls scream his name, as the dancers moved with him, one occasionally caressing his skin.

"I **'** m always just about to go and spoil a surprise. Take my hands off of your eyes too soon," Louis had been completely unaware of the lyrics he was singing. All he knew was he felt them in a place he had never felt anything before. In that moment they were lighting a spark in his very soul, and possessing him with an unearthly confidence.

Louis returned to the front of the stage, and decided to just do it. He began to move towards the judges, something that his choreographer had suggested, but he had declined due to his nerves. Those feelings had now dissipated. All that mattered was him and the music.

"I **'** m going back to 505 If it **'** s a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive," Louis sang towards Ariana, Jennifer and Drake. The three beamed at him, clapping to the beat of the song. The whole experience felt surreal. He then moved from them, in his boldness, and turned towards his mentor.

"In my imagination you **'** re waiting, lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs and a smile!" Harry's head turned and his eyes widened in shock at Louis's actions. His mouth opened slightly, before a tight smile appeared on his face. Always faking it for the cameras. Louis winked, before returning to the stage to finish the song.

The music faded out, but the noise didn't. Around him, the audience were on their feet screaming and cheering. Even the judges were giving him a standing ovation, although Harry did so, begrudgingly.

"Wow Louis!" James came onto the stage, the ever present smile on his face. "What a performance!"

Louis blushed, always awkward with receiving praise.

"how are you feeling?" Louis was shocked to find himself slightly out of breath, and shiny with sweat. He quickly wiped his forehead, before taking the mic from James.

"I don't know. I can't even process what just happened," He confessed, which earned chuckles from the audience. "Ummmm I don't know what else to say. Hi Niall and Lottie. You better be watching!"

James laughed, and fiddled a little with his earpiece. Someone was speaking to him.

"So, Louis," He raised his eyebrow. "Is Lottie that special someone you were inspired to sing about?" Louis's eyes widened and he burst out laughing.

"Absolutely not. She's my sister. I'm single, everyone," This earned a few girly squeals, and Louis debated telling them that they were barking up the wrong tree. He didn't. James also laughed, albeit a little awkwardly and shot a glance at one of the team. He then turned to the judges.

Ariana and Drake gave amazing feedback, both singing Louis's praises. It was hard not to think what he was experiencing was some kind of dream.

James then turned to Jennifer.

"You're an absolute natural, Louis. You look like a professional who has been performing for years," She cried, raising her hands in the air and doing a celebratory dance. 

Harry then mumbled something and Jennifer turned to look at him in shock.

"What was that, Harry?" James asked.

The microphone had not picked up Harry words, but Louis could lip read.

**_'_** _I wouldn't go that far,'_ They were the words he had hissed, with that smug face. Louis's smile dropped and he looked at the floor, suddenly not feeling on top of the world.

"Oh nothing, James. Do continue," He said, in a nastily sarcastic tone. The room was silent, and Louis sent a nervous glance to the assistant producer. She looked worried, and signalled for James to carry on.

"Right. Well, Harry, what did you think of your boy's performance," Harry blinked at the statement, and Louis felt himself going redder and redder. This was mortifying. Yet again, Harry was ruining everything.

"It was good,"

James laughed, trying to ease the tension.

"Is that it?" He joked and Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly annoyed. All Louis could think about was that camera shoved in front of his face, showing off his uncomfortable expressions and hurt eyes.

"Yes. I would rather discuss my team's performances privately," Harry supplied, and James nodded, quickly wrapping up the performance.

As soon as they went to the adverts, Louis darted off the stage, tears threatening his vision. Once again, he felt humiliated.

Liam Payne tried to grab his attention, but Louis needed to get out of there. He found the closest exit and with shaking hands, pulled out a lighter.

"I'm sorry," He heard a voice behind him, and he dropped his cigarette in a panic. Cursing under his breath, he picked it up and placed it between his plump, red lips, still swollen from the night before.

Zayn and Liam were looking at him with sympathetic facial expressions.

"He's in a really bad mood today, but he shouldn't have taken it out on you," Liam patted him on the shoulder, smiling sadly. Louis nodded and sniffed, before taking another drag of his cigarette.

"If it's any consolation, I thought you smashed it. You definitely put Harry to shame out there," Zayn added, pulling out his own lighter and lighting up a joint.

Louis snorted and shook his head.

"In the words of Harry, I wouldn't go that far," The three let out a sad laugh, and stood in silence, Liam and Zayn sharing the joint between the two of them. Louis was not offered it, and he did not ask. He was not in the right frame of mind to be taking any type of drug, even if it was only weed.

He was not quite sure how many minutes had passed, but the sharp English wind blew against his sheer flimsy white shirt, rendering him freezing, but he did not want to move. The fresh air helped clear his mind and calm his restless thought. He was also enjoying the quiet company of the two superstars beside him. There was something comforting and kind about them, and they seemed to know exactly what Louis wanted:

Silence.

It was nice. Just him, them and the moon.

Eventually the door opened and a red faced assistant came tumbling out, breathless and stressed.

"Oh my God, Louis! There you are! They're about to announce the results," She cried, and Louis's eyes widened. He had completely forgotten about them, too busy wallowing in his own self pity.

"Shit," He hissed, stamping out his fourth cigarette. As he rushed into the building, he heard Liam and Zayn wish him luck, and he winked, trying to show how Harry's words had not affected him.

They had.

==  
Ashe's head rested on Louis's shoulder in the cosy living room, as they both watched a true crime documentary on Netflix. They were still wearing their pearly white performance costumes, and under the dull lighting they looked almost ethereal, Ashe's silver hair glowing and Louis's rings still shining.

Both of them had made it through, although two of Drake's contestants had been eliminated. The results had not, apparently, been a shock, but Louis did not know. He had not watched any performances, not even Ashe's. She claimed she did not mind, but Louis could tell she was a little wounded at his confession. But still, the two were cuddled against one another, feeding off each other's warmth, trying their best not to let the jump scares get them.

Just as an intense scene was occurring, Louis and Ashe heard the front door slam and they both screamed, before their mouths opened in shock.

Swaying in front of them was a very intoxicated Harry Styles and a stunning male model, equally as drunk. He was tall, but not as tall as Harry, and had high cheekbones, and slight stubble littering his face. His hair was similarly styled to Louis's and he had piercing blue eyes.

Harry did not look at Louis, but his clingy _friend_ did. He took in the scene, Louis glowing in the moonlight and dim shine from the television. His eyes narrowed and he sent a flirty grin his way.

"Hey look," He said, tugging on Harry's shirt. The tall rockstar turned to look at the model, his face sour and frustrated.

"It's an angel. Let's invite him to have fun with us,"

Louis choked on some popcorn he was eating, and he felt Ashe vibrate beside him. She was silently chuckling at his reaction, and he turned to her, mortified. She shrugged, and his head whipped back to the two very intoxicated men. Harry simply rolled his eyes at the comment, and the lad from Doncaster blushed.

"Oh please," Harry murmured, his face edging closer to the model's. "You're my only angel," With that, he crashed his lips against his and the two moaned. Every so often, Harry would glance at Louis, before closing his eyes again. It hurt seeing him do it, but Louis felt sorry for the man. He was clearly doing it for attention, desperate for Louis to look at him. He really could not work out what the rockstar wanted.

"let's move this upstairs, daddy," the model moaned again, and Louis physically gagged. At that, Ashe burst out laughing and, consequently, so did Louis. Harry shot them both an annoyed, slightly spaced out stare, before leading his _friend_ up the stairs.

Ashe and Louis laughed for another two minutes before they eventually calmed down.

"You know," Ashe said, breaking the silence. "That guy looked just like you,"

"Shut up," Louis laughed, feeling so much lighter than before.


	15. XV

Madness, mayhem and meticulous planning for performances, interviews, and paparazzi: That was the whirlwind Louis was whipped up in.

His performance of 505 had become something of a viral sensation, and he had been unable to leave Harry's mansion, without being hit with a frenzy of screaming fans and press. Overnight, Louis had gone from a pub singer from Doncaster, to a constant trending topic on Twitter. The sudden change filled the singer with dread and anxiety. He was conscious of every move he made, and paranoia seeped through his brain. It all felt too surreal, and he constantly had to pinch himself to check that he was in reality.

Lottie and Niall had been incredibly supportive of his overnight sensation label, and had been ringing him constantly, sending him bouts of approval and encouragement. Louis was grateful for them. Despite the unforeseen change in his life, they were keeping him grounded and it was comforting to know that they were there for him.

Always.

They did not make him any less lonely, however. He was being pulled deeper and deeper into celebrity status, without any proper guidance. His competitors had not garnered the same attention, and many were hostile towards him, envious of his fame.

He yearned for Harry to help him. Offer him some words of wisdom; wrap a long, tattooed arm around his small torso, but that was wishful thinking.

The two had not spoken since their run-in with Louis's doppelgänger, and Louis was convinced that the star was avoiding him. It was not fair. He had been working incredibly hard in rehearsal, and Harry probably did not even know what song he was performing.

Regret had found a nice place to settle in Louis's gut. If only he had not slept with the star. Common sense told him that it was not his fault. Harry had been the one to pursue the relationship, and he had instigated the kiss. Harry was the one who was acting extremely unprofessionally, and allowing emotion and embarrassment rule his judgement. Yet, there was a small voice in the back of the smaller man's brain asking if it was his fault. Should Louis have made himself less available? Should he have worked harder to show his disinterest? Questions around the star would not stop flowing through Louis's already stressed head.

The only time that Louis had actually seen Harry that week, had been on the stairs. Whilst it had only been for a brief second, the look on the star's face had been ingrained into Louis's brain. His whole façade had crumpled like a piece of paper: his eyes dead, and cheeks hot. He was on the verge of tears, and Louis wanted to offer him something, anything, but he was too slow. By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Harry had disappeared into that mystery room, locking the door behind him.

Although the Doncaster lad had barely seen the rockstar, it did not mean that he had not been thinking about him. When it came to Harry, his brain had no control. But the more his mind wandered, the more frustrated and angry he became. Harry was Louis's mentor first and foremost, and although he clearly regretted their one night stand, his lack of encouragement or advice was going to be hard for Louis to forgive.

Despite not seeing Harry, he had seen Zayn and Liam a couple of times, who had been waiting in the living room for their spoiled friend. Both had been extremely friendly towards the Doncaster lad and there was always something very calming about their presence.

Zayn had even given Louis some advice on how to deal with his newfound fame.

_"The less you reveal, the more they want to know. Keep it for the music, and they'll buy your records like there is no tomorrow,"_

Louis had not really understood it, but both Zayn and Liam assured him that one day he would.

===

Louis stared out of the window and watched the vagrant white clouds in the calm and benevolent blue sky twist and turn, illustrating different shapes. He pictured himself as a cloud, aimlessly drifting back and forth. In a way, he was living that life at this moment. He had a purpose, he supposed, but he was unsure of his motivations. Was it about the music? The fame? Did he have a deep-rooted psychological problem? Was all this to prove himself to Harry? No.

Louis had a goal. He was going to make it, for his mum. He would do it for the two of them, Harry be damned.

As he continued to gaze absentmindedly, he spotted a figure by the roses, and he swallowed, wanting to look away.

Harry was busying himself with gardening, wearing a classic forest green Gucci suit and dainty white gloves. He smiled, content. The star looked less stressed when he wasn't worrying about life; completely lost in the task of deadheading the roses around him. Louis watched as his big yet delicate hands wrapped around the stems and pulled. He wondered if plants felt, and if they did, were they aware that Harry was helping them prosper? Louis felt envious towards the flowers. He was doing more for them, than his own contestant.

Deep down, he knew it was a little odd. Watching Harry from a window was probably enough for the man to file a restraining order against him, but he was mesmerised. Eyes unable to leave the star's back as he busied himself with the task. His expression was soft, neutral, and peaceful. Louis had never seen him like that. Only when he had slept, and even then, a small frown line appeared just above his eyebrow. Even in sleep, he overthought.

A small part of Louis wanted to go out there, and watch more closely, perhaps offer to help. But that would be overstepping. Harry had made it very clear that he was no longer interested in what Louis had to offer him, other than a one night stand. It stung Louis's soul to know that the forest had outgrown the ocean, spreading further and pushing deeper in Louis's space.

Tearing his vision from the window, he began to prepare for the night. It was Saturday once again, and his performance would be over in less than 8 hours. Time had flown by for the singer. Although he had been distracted by his newfound attention and it had been hard to prepare probably, especially without any proper advice. He tried not to think about that: the disadvantage he had compared to the other contestants, and went over the lyrics to the Bastille song in his head.

===

The performance had been thrilling, and Louis was still out of breath 20 minutes after it had occurred. Once again, he had completely lost himself in his performance, and let the music control his mood, his actions, and his stage presence. When Louis sang, there were no restraints, no worries, no fucks to give.

It was him, the music, and a microphone.

It was daring, and wonderful, and joyous.

Not even Harry's lack of feedback could stop him riding the high on this occasion. He had expected it, prepped for it. It came as no shock when the rockstar said it was good with the shrug of his shoulders, and left the audience in an awkward, painful silence. Louis had sent him a deathly glare, for his actions, but the star had not responded, his eye-line wandering everywhere but at the smaller lad from Doncaster.

The results came quickly, and Louis was the first to go through. The room had erupted into a roar of noise and applause when his name was announced, and he flushed a little, still not used to the new attention Ashe's name was also called and he was so relieved. He was not sure that he would be able to cope, trapped in Harry's big house, alone. Sure, there were the other two contestants, but they had decided that he was not worth their time and avoided him like the plague.

Two more contestants were eliminated and now only twelve of the sixteen remained. Louis was already a quarter of the way through the competition.

After the results, he headed back to the mansion, planning on sleeping, but to his dissatisfaction, the driveway was full of hundreds of sports cars, and he internally groaned. Harry was having another party.

He did not _want_ to go. He did not _need_ to go. The last party he had attended had ended in disaster, and Harry almost died. He did not want to witness that. However, there was a small part in his brain that wanted to lose himself. He had been under so many restraints this week, unable to even leave Harry's house. He just wanted to feel a bit of freedom. He glanced at Ashe who was gazing, wide eyed, at the girls in designer frocks, and the men in daring tuxedos and grabbed her hand.

"Shall we go to the ball?"

Ashe smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

Perhaps the party would be different this time.

===

Once again Louis found himself wandering into the grandiose pool room. His eyes were full of wonder and amazement as he gazed around him. The room was lit with sparkles, and diaphanous fabrics, glitter and velvet suits. Above him, hung the half crescent moon, spying and staring at the commotion. It cast dancing shadows onto the decorative walls, and spells on the guests below.

Skeletal models danced in the northern lights; beneath the artificial smoke swirled an array or blues, green, pinks and golds, and the daily drudgery of life seemed to wash away.

A plethora of champagne bottles sat stocked on top of each other, daring to topple over at any second, as the floor vibrated with movement, and the bass of the speakers. Once again white powder could be seen sitting in neat lines on polished mirrors, that sent bright reflections onto nearby walls. Socialites crowded around them, heads dipping down onto the surface as they sniffed up the illegal substance.

Bodies danced together, packed tightly like sardines: each figure moving simultaneously with the other, as if they were all sharing some kind of psychic connection.

Louis spotted Harry instantly. His dark chestnut hair was draped lazily in front of his face, hiding one of his forest green eyes. In his ring-clad hand was a cigarette that he would bring to his mouth every so often, hollowing out his cheeks, and closing his eyes. Under the fluorescent, dancing lights, he looked ethereal, and seemed to glide above the rest of the partygoers. His eyes met Louis's in a flurry of shock and surprise, and his mouth dropped open. Louis wanted to go towards him, towards the stars, and hold him in front of everyone. He wanted to make him shine and glow: open and together.

He didn't.

Harry had already turned away.

The party had to be even bigger than the first that Ashe and Louis had attended, but this time he felt less like a fish out of water. Young men and women glanced his way and sent him knowing smiles. They had obviously heard about his viral performance. He smiled back, and grabbed Ashe's hand, dragging her into the middle of the crowd.

Tonight, he wanted to get lost in the music, and never look back.

The sounds of the bass took over Louis's soul and he shut his eyes, swaying and moving to the beat. His hands were pressed firmly on Ashe's hips, and he let the dancers around him guide his movement. Bodies collided with bodies and skin hit skin in a frenzy of dynamic and kinetic energy.

Waves crashed against the shore, the moon dictating their very existence. It was as though nature was taking over, and Louis was a slave to its commands. His blue eyes a subordinate drop in a huge ocean.

Invisible string suddenly tugged at his heart, and he was pulled, violently, from his trance. In the corner was Harry, watching him with ferocity in his deep green eyes. The look was intense and caused Louis's body to seize up. Ashe noticed the sudden change in his demeanour and gave him a gentle squeeze on his hip. He ripped his eyes from the rock star, and replied with a small smile. By the time he looked back, Harry was snorting a line of cocaine from a silver tray, his eyes never leaving the lad from Doncaster.

Swallowing, Louis left his blonde friend on the dance floor and pushed his way towards Harry.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" He challenged, the minute Harry was in hearing distance. The man snorted, rubbing his nose in an aggressive manner. White powder still remained on his nostril, and Louis grimaced.

"Oh honey," He laughed, slurring his words. He came towards Louis and grabbed him by the waist. "I've done no such thing,"

He continued to laugh like it was the funniest thing on the planet, whilst his dilated pupils glimmered: wide and crazy. His behaviour was bordering on hysterical, and his hands seemed to shake as he grasped at Louis's small and frail body.

"Harry," Louis whispered, trying to pull away. "Please get off of me. you're high and you're not ok,"

Harry's behaviour was scaring him, and he regretted going up to him.

The rockstar's laughter turned into a cackle, but his eyes remained dead, a single tear leaving one of them. Underneath the surface, he was screaming for help, begging for someone to see, but the drugs were hiding his vulnerability. Louis wanted to hug him, but he could not. Not when he was in this state.

"Oh darling. I am wonderful. In fact, I am euphoric," Harry released Louis and threw his arms in the air, in a brazen attempt to prove his worth. It was heartbreaking to witness.

Louis tried to meet his forest green eyes, hoping that the ocean tide was going to come in and wash him from his broken mental and physical state, but the star was unable to focus on anything. He was jittery and loud; a far-cry from the young man who had opened up about his feelings the week before. Right now Harry was headed for a train-wreck and going full steam ahead.

"Zayn!" Harry spotted his friend in the crowd and called him over, his loud voice earning a few dirty looks from his guests.

Zayn glanced at Louis as he pulled away from the dancers, and Louis shook his head in response. He hoped that it would be enough to warn him of the singer's current state.

"I am fine and dandy, am I not?" He continued to slur and swayed a little on the spot. It seemed that the effects of the cocaine was beginning to work its way into his bloodstream, penetrating all of his senses, and rendering him a slave to its suggestions. He grabbed a bottle of Moet from an ice bucket and began to down it, the liquid gold gliding down his face, and onto the floor, as he continuously missed his mouth.

Zayn swallowed and looked at the star, stone faced. It was the first time Louis had seen that expression on him before. It was a little intimidating.

"Harry," He said. His voice was low and agitation was seeping through. "Don't you think that you've had enough?"

Harry began to cackle, uncontrollably and shook his head in disbelief. His eyes were the size of the moon, and his mouth continued to drop open.

"I'm fine old sport. You're both so boring. I'm off to find some real fun. Sorry Lou-bear, but you didn't really cut it for me," With that the star stumbled away, hand still grasping the bottle. Louis watched as he was pulled into a plethora of nearly naked bodies. It was enough to make the boy feel sick. The words he said should have stung, but he was too concerned for his well being to take them to heart.

Beside him, Zayn let out a tired and disappointed sigh.

"I don't understand why he has so many parties. It's not like he has to prove himself. Everyone knows who he is," Louis confessed, turning away from Harry who seemed one step away from an orgy, and towards the beautiful man with dark features.

Zayn fluttered his inhumanly long eyelashes and gently shook his head, a sad smile sat on his face.

"Louis, it's not about status," He replied, and Louis's head tilted in confusion.

"Then what is it about?" He asked. He desperately wanted to understand the singer and his motivation behind his crazy antics. He suspected that his sister's death and closeting played a role in the excessive drug use, but it did not explain why he had the parties. There was an insurmountable problem with Harry Styles.

Zayn looked sad and forlorn as he glanced from Louis to his off-the-rails friend.

"His favourite book is the Great Gatsby," He offered as an explanation with a shrug. Did he expect Louis to understand that? Why were celebrities so mysterious with their words? He thought back to the words of advice Zayn had said, and he supposed it made sense.

**_'_ ** _the less you reveal, the more they want to know.'_

The words swam around his brain as he looked back at Harry, who was snorting yet another line of cocaine.

"He's not ok," He whispered, feeling a heartbreaking emotion caught in his throat. He tried to clear it, but it was lodged there, causing water to prick in his eyes. It was like a knife was being twisted inside of him, ripping his vital organ in half.

"I know," Zayn replied, and looked to the floor. It seemed as though Zayn had had this conversation before, and he did not want to have it again.

"I'm really worried about him," Louis then confessed. He was a little shocked by his openness towards Zayn, but continued, nevertheless.

"I want to help but I don't think I can," he then admitted, watching as his beautiful rockstar struggled to stand, and fell onto a nearby table, banging his chin.

He lay on the floor, unconscious, and no one seemed to notice. He was lying in the open, but might as well have been invisible.

Louis's eyes widened and he considered running towards him. Security beat him to it, however.

Zayn had also seen the incident, and turned to Louis. His voice was shaky and his eyes full of hurt and desperation.

"Louis please. You're our last hope"

As Louis watched Harry's limp frame be carried out by security, he could not help but wonder: _was it even possible to find hope in the hopeless?_


	16. XVI

Decadent delirium.

That was Harry, and that was his life. It was a crazy whirlwind of emotions and parties, and paparazzi; Louis could not get enough of it.

He felt like a stalker, watching the man's every move, but there was something captivating about it all. The extravagance of him, and his world. It was a show that Louis had never seen, a song that he had never heard, a scent that he had never smelt.

Two weeks had passed since _that_ party and the words that Zayn had uttered.

 _You're our last hope_.

Louis wished it were true. He wished he could help but these past two weeks had demonstrated one thing: Harry Styles was an untameable, and uncatchable wildfire.

The rockstar would throw himself into everything, no matter the risks. And the word _no_ was not in his vocabulary. Jamie would trail behind, with his head in his hands, as the star would yell at interviewers, or snort cocaine behind cameras. The assistant's maternal nature and concern did seem to have any effect on the rockstar.

Harry and his team had been recording a segment for Factor 28. Louis had sat, silent and compliant, scared to open his mouth. His fellow contestants had also been oddly quiet, obviously sensing the uneasiness in the star's demeanour. The interviewer had turned to Harry and asked about relationship with his mentees. Louis had tensed, knowing that the topic was a sore spot. He tried not to glance in his direction, and instead, focused on the interviewer's muddy brown eyes, full of wonder. She was probably a university graduate, who had just been given her first journalism gig. Harry's gaze flicked towards him, and he tried not to squirm at the scrutiny, and continued to watch the pretty blonde girl, sitting behind the camera. He waited for the generic media trained answer to spill out Harry's mouth, emotionless, but that did not come. Instead he felt the atmosphere in the studio shift and Harry cleared his throat.

"I really do not see why it is anyone's business who I get on with," he snapped, and the room fell silent. Louis turned and looked at the boy. His face was full of thunder, storm clouds forming in his dilated eyes. He stared at the smaller boy for what felt like hours, when a deafening squeak ripped across the tiled floor. Harry's chair flew from under him, as he stood up in a whirlwind of anger and annoyance, before walking away from the interview. A reservoir formed in the blonde's eyes, and Louis wanted to reach out and reassure her it was ok. He didn't. Jamie was already there with a tissue, muttering apologies and making excuses. The Doncaster lad fought the urge to roll his eyes.

The temper tantrums only became worse. When two of Harry's contestants were eliminated, Louis watched him backstage. He lurked in the shadows, so the star did not know, whilst he snorted a huge line of coke. It was the type of line you'd do, when you did not want to remember anything. Louis's mentor then stumbled through the backstage, weaving through equipment and people until he reached Simon. Watching the two interact sent shivers down Louis's spine. Memories of their earlier argument came flooding back and he wanted to leave his hiding spot to yell at the manager. Tell him to never go near Harry again, and let him love; let him live.

He didn't. But he did watch and listen.

"You removed them on purpose to punish me!" Harry snapped, challenging the older man.

There was not much in the way of height between them, but the way Simon looked down his nose at the star gave the illusion that he was seven foot tall. Harry looked like a small child: vulnerable and scared.

"Perhaps I did. Perhaps I didn't," A smug grin was written across Cowbell's face, and Louis wanted to slap it off.

"At least now you know when I tell you do something, you do it,"

Harry scoffed and shook his head, angry and tired.

"I'm so sick. You can't keep me like this. I'm not a dog," The statement had resulted in a cruel laugh escaping Simon's wicked lips. Under the harsh studio lights, his greying hair looked greasy and decrepit and sweat patches were visible under his crisp white shirt. Thin, brittle chest hair peaked out from the V neckline, and there was a stain on his light blue acid wash jeans. He was a gross person: inside and out.

"Oh you poor boy. You are worse than a dog. And you need a handler. Just look at what happens when you're left unsupervised. How high are you right now? How much money do you reckon you just snorted up your nose?" The star's face morphed into a snarl, and his eyes were feral and angry. He touched his nose self-consciously, before clenching his fists. Louis braced himself, ready to intercept Harry's imminent attack on his manager, but Jamie was one step ahead, grabbing a hold of his shoulder and pulling him away.

"Remember Harry. I own you," He spat, before walking in the other direction. The star had clung to Jamie's shirt and buried his head in his arms. Sobs escaped his lips, and Louis was left, trembling in the shadows.

Despite always being there for everything press related, Jamie was always absent from Harry's ridiculous, ostentatious parties. Was he also unable to watch the star slowly destroy himself? Was he unable to watch a person's hard work slowly begin to detangle because of drug abuse?

_You're our last hope._

Thinking of Zayn's words, Louis had tried his best to interact with the star, even civilly, but he was ignored consistently. In Harry's mind, Louis did not matter. He was not important enough to talk to. He'd been a good fuck and that was it. It was a hard pill for the contestant to swallow, but deep down, he had known the minute he had met the star. His arrogance had oozed off of him, when he had handed him that autograph. The only difference now was Louis knew it was all rooted in self-hatred and insecurity.

Even though he was angry and embarrassed, he could not stop watching the formidable force. There were subtleties to him, layers. Like how his gaze would always linger on Louis for too long, how his hands would shake before he went to the bathroom. He would rub his nose constantly, and his knee would jump up and down when he was nervous. He went into that room on the stairs, like it was part of his daily routine. Sometimes, he would spend hours in there, and Louis would hear his gentle sobs through the door. Sometimes, unheard music would play, and Harry would leave the room red-eyed and tear stained.

Since his interaction with Simon, Harry's parties had also increased and he was slowly losing what was left of him.

Wide eyes and no soul. Forests burning in a fire of cocaine.

Every so often, he would meet Louis's eyes across the room, and the smaller man would also be pulled into the burning sensation. His ocean desperately trying to extinguish the flames. It was relentless, but never lasted long enough. After a few seconds, Harry's gaze would travel elsewhere. Louis would be left with third degree burns that would scar his heart.

He expressed his concern to Niall, following one particular night where Harry had been carried away by some random male model, barely able to function.

He lay on his bed, messy clothes surrounding him on the floor, and poured out everything.

"Niall you don't understand. It's bad," He whispered into the phone, as if it was a confession that should never be spoken out loud. His small tattooed fingers twirled a piece of his hair falling into his face, and the moonlight fell across the room, creating dancing shadows on the wall.

"It was bad before," The Irish lad replied. The line was crackly, and muffled, and Louis tried to focus in on his words.

"Yeah, but not like this," He replied, wondering what was happening to the star at that moment. Was he safe?

"I'm really worried, especially after what Zayn said to me," Niall knew about his interaction with the famous singer. He was the first and only person Louis had told.

"I don't see how he is your responsibility though," He tried to reason, and Louis heard a deep sigh crackle through the line. He suspected that Niall was in the car, as he could hear the distant hum of the road behind him.

"You're in a competition, not babysitting a drugged up rockstar,"

Louis knew he was right. Harry Styles was not his responsibility, but he could not help it. He was an enigma that Louis wanted to solve, even if the puzzle pieces did not seem to fit.

"I know. It's just-"

"You care for him," Niall interrupted. He sounded disapproving, but he understood. Louis had a habit of falling for bad guys. Harry just so happened to be the baddest.

"Yeah. I care for him a lot, and I'm not even sure why," He confessed with a sad chuckle.

A cancerous tumour grew inside his heart, pulsating and shutting every system down, drying out his ocean, and poisoning his waters. Harry Edward Styles was breaking him.

"shit Lou. I don't know what to say," Those words had never left Niall's mouth before. He had never been left speechless. The Irish lad had a solution to everything.

Perhaps there was no antidote to this pain. Perhaps Louis was terminally fucked. Harry Styles was trailblazer and scolding him with a selfish fire of desire.

"It's a bit complicated," Louis sighed, burying his head into his hands. The moon seemed to be glowing even brighter, illuminating the silent and gentle tears that rolled down his checks. They looked like diamonds, priceless and delicate: jewels shining on display in a museum.

"well I tell you what Sherlock Holmes. You are unbelievable," Niall laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Louis chuckled. His statement had been pretty pathetic. It was true. His relationship with Harry was anything but simple. Was it even a relationship? Did Louis even exist to him?

"Thanks," he smiled, before changing the subject. The two had chatted aimlessly for hours, until the sun poked through the clouds and the moon turned to dust.

===

Whipped up in the commotion of his turbulent feelings for Harry, Louis's artistry was suffering. His voice no longer held the power it once did, and he was unable to connect to any of the words he sang. His last two performances had been lacklustre at best, and the hype surrounding him was slowly fading. Ashe had commented on the sudden change, and he had claimed that he was sick.

He wasn't.

He had just lost his reason to sing.

Even Carol, his vocal teacher, was concerned, and had sent him to the doctor to see if he had a throat infection. He went, not wanting to confess that the reason behind his crackly voice was the fact that he had been crying himself to sleep for the past two weeks.

If Harry had noticed anything, he hadn't uttered a word, not even during the judge's feedback on the show, when Ariana, Drake and Jennifer would rip him apart for his lack of stage presence. He would simply shrug his shoulder and take a gulp from his glass. Louis suspected he was not drinking water.

It was odd what Louis missed. He did miss his smile, and his gentle, genuine laugh but what he missed the most was when he said his name, or when he argued and bickered with him. He missed his subtle arrogance and how his lip would slightly curve upwards when he smirked. He missed the smell of tobacco mixed with vanilla and spices.

===

Tonight was Saturday, meaning that it was Factor 28. Louis stood and stared out at the stage. The star sat there, under the artificial light. The bags were evident under his eyes, and the makeup team were desperately trying to hide the dullness of his skin. He looked as broken as Louis felt. He heard his name called by the loud speaker and tried to clear his scratchy voice. Bright lights clouded his vision and he winced a little. When his vision cleared, all he could see was Harry. Zayn's words ran through his head.

_You're our last hope._

He had never felt more helpless. 


	17. XVII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for making it this far! I hope you're enjoying it <3

“Lou, you’re being hard on yourself. It wasn’t even that bad,” Ashe tried to comfort the Doncaster lad, who was situated on the cold, concrete floor, backstage.

He gave a lazy hum, before tilting further back until his back was pressed against the icy surface. It was a nice feeling, and helped him focus. His mind was a jumbled mess, negative thoughts about his performance swimming through his overworked brain.

Louis had never given such a poor show, and was ashamed of himself. So fixated on the arrogant rockstar sitting in front of him, he had tripped over his words, and lost the key. The performance had been a car crash from start to finish, with Harry sending him a disapproving glare once it was finally over. Tears threatened to spill and he tried to concentrate on the cold floor sending shivers down his spine.

“Ashe. It was. We both know that. Please just leave me alone,” The blonde nodded and walked off, without protest.

Louis had not intended to be rude to her, but he was embarrassed and contrite about everything. He needed to be alone with his feelings at that moment. She was a lovely person and was closely becoming one of Louis’s best friends, but he needed to prepare himself for the results. He already knew that he was going home. His recent performances had been okay at best, and this recent one was the icing on his stale and half eaten cake.

Looking up at the studio lights, he tried to imagine his life back in Doncaster. Within a few hours, he would be surrounded by red brick terrace houses, and dirty alleys littered with graffiti. Greyness would envelop him, as he would walk past vacant shops and vape cafes. He would pass drug dealer’s corners, and nod towards his elderly neighbours. A few of his school friends might congratulate him, and shake his hand, and his local pub would give him a pint ‘on them’. Later, his younger sister would be outside of his flat, with her arms open wide. She would whisper comforting words in his ear, and tell him that his mum would be so proud. It was a far-cry from the luxurious mansion that he had been living in for the past month.

A horrible feeling settled in Louis’s stomach. He did not want to go back. 

He wanted to stay.

After an hour or so, a stocky woman came thundering into the backstage room, holding a clipboard. Louis sat up slowly, and stared at her slightly wonky spectacles.

“Louis?” She asked, and he nodded.

“The results are about to be announced. Time to get on stage,” She shot him a sympathetic smile before leaving.

The contestant paled and tried not to overthink her reaction. Surely, she was just being polite. Although, deep down he knew. she had confirmed what he already was expecting. Louis Tomlinson was going home.

===

Blinding lights hit him harder than a tonne of bricks as he entered the stage, hand desperately clutching Ashe. Although the lights shone across the whole stage, he felt hot and heavy, like they were all aimed at him and he was being interrogated. His hand squeezed his friend’s harder, and he was probably cutting off her blood flow. He loosened it a little, and sent her an apologetic smile. She just gently shook her head, and squeezed his fingers to reassure him it was ok.

Names rolled off of James’s tongue as he read the card he was holding. 

None of them were Louis’s. 

Eventually there were only four contestant’s left, and Louis braced himself.

“The last contestant guaranteed a place in next weeks’ show is,” James paused, and Louis swallowed. His mouth was dry and he tasted blood from where he had been nervously chewing. Standing there, with the spotlight on him and Harry sitting across from him, made his breathing rapid and shallow. He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. He wished that Ashe was still by his side, but she had been one of the first contestants announced. Louis was utterly alone, about to have his dreams shattered.

James opened his mouth, and the small lad from Doncaster closed his eyes.

“Diana Garcia,”

Bile rose in Louis’s throat, and he rocked slightly, trying to resist the urge to throw up.

It was official. He was in the bottom three, and two were going home.

“Congratulations, Diana. Go and join the others backstage. James, Cassie, Louis. Please come over and join me,”

Louis opened his eyes, and tried to shake the ill feeling out of his head. His hands were clammy, and he felt wobbly and dizzy, as he walked towards the plump presenter, who was smiling sadly at him. He took a quick glance at Harry, but the star was looking elsewhere: an unreadable expression on his face. Louis nodded, finally understanding. Harry did not care about him.

He never had.

James chatted to the other contestants for a few minutes, and Louis stood there, anxiously picking at his raw nail beds. Finally, the presenter turned to him.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, sympathy dripping from his mouth, like soft silk. Louis gave him a sad smile, and shrugged his shoulders.

“A bit gutted, but I get it. I’m capable of so much better, and I’m so sorry to everyone who I’ve let down,” He tried his best to keep his voice even, and prayed it would not crack. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt a hand slip behind his back, and James rubbed small circles, trying to comfort him. He could see how choked up he was. Louis felt empty and distraught.

“Do you have anything else to say to the judges?” He asked, but he gave him a look that suggested that he did not need to answer. Louis swallowed down the lump in his thought, and tried to fight the tsunami forming behind his eyes.

“Look I messed up. I know I did,” He confessed, taking the mic from James.

“I’m not gonna stand here and promise that I’m always going to be perfect, because I’m not, but that doesn’t excuse what happened tonight,”

Louis paused for a moment, and turned to look at Harry, but the man seemed more invested in the gold rings on his hands. He twirled them around his thick fingers, and paid no attention to his surroundings. Louis nodded. That was how this was going to go then. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to pour his heart out.

“A couple of months ago I had a conversation with someone about why I’m here and I told them some pretty heavy stuff that I’ve never told anyone,” Louis hesitated. Did he really want to speak about this on live television? Would people think he was trying to get sympathy votes? He concluded that it did not matter. He had to do this for himself.

“My mum died last year and I promised her that I’d make it. I come from a shitty neighbourhood, and I worked so hard to get here. Don’t think that because I messed up tonight I don’t care, because I do. I care so fucking much, and being here, doing this,” His voice cracked, and finally the dam behind his eyes gave way. Water came flooding out and he gasped a little at the sudden wave of emotion. James tried to take the mic back but he wasn’t finished.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” He said in a shaky, broken voice.

“Sure, it's not perfect, but neither am I, and I wouldn’t swap it for anything in the world,”

James looked at Louis, tears pricking his own vision, and pulled him into a hug. It was warm and comforting, and he didn’t mind Louis’s snotty nose ruining his designer blazer.

“Oh Louis. It’s ok,” He whispered in his ear, and Louis nodded, mumbling a quiet thank you. When he pulled away, there was not a dry eye in the audience, and both Ariana and J-Lo were crying. Louis prepared to be met with the judges’s votes when a voice he did not expect called out:

“Can I say something?” Louis’s eyes widened and he looked towards Harry, whose face had morphed into a disgruntled look.

James nodded, and Harry sighed.

“When I met Louis, I thought he was the most arrogant person I had ever met. I thought he was rude because he constantly answered back and challenged me. I couldn’t stand him. I’m not going to lie to you. We had a lot of arguments, and his blue eyes knew exactly how to get under my skin,” Louis felt his heart drop a hundred feet and smash into millions of little pieces. He knew that Harry did not care for his feelings, but surely sabotaging his career was a blow so low, even he wouldn’t bend down to reach it. The Doncaster lad sent him a teary-eyed look of shock and hurt. Rather than stopping, however, Harry continued.

“I thought he wanted to ruin me, drive me mad, but then I realised. He wanted to better me, because he saw potential. I’ve been an awful mentor and I know that it’s my fault that he’s here. This is not what he deserves at all because Louis Tomlinson is a fucking good person. He sees the best in everyone, even when he shouldn’t,”

Louis stilled. Why was Harry saying these things? What was going on? He tried to meet his gaze, to see if he could see inside his mind, but Harry kept flicking from the camera to his fellow judges. His arms moved expressively, and it seemed as though he was finally releasing a feeling that he had been holding in for a very long time.

"I’ve never met a person so talented, and I’ve been in this business a long time. He possesses this rare quality that no amount of training, or singing lessons can achieve. Empathy. Empathy is what makes an amazing performer. Anyone can sing notes with enough practise, but it takes skill to actually understand what you’re singing about,”

Louis blushed and cringed at the praise, still quite unable to believe what was happening. Was Harry Styles: heartless, drugged-up rockstar, really saying all this?

The mentor let out a nervous laugh, like he could not believe what he was about confess and opened his mouth again:

“Sometimes, I hear him singing, in the music room and I sit there, with my head to door, just listening,”

Louis’s head tilted in shock and confusion. Was that true? Did Harry really listen to him rehearsing? No. Surely Louis would pick up on a presence by the door.

“I don’t think he even realises that someone is there. He’s too busy getting lost in the music and working harder than anyone else here,”

Harry was correct. Louis had never noticed anyone listening.

“I want him and everyone else here to know that he brings so much light into this world, despite the darkness that surrounds him. He’s like the sun, burning bright, and he does not deserve to go home. To let him go would be a complete and utter waste of talent,” At this point, anyone who had a dry eye from Louis’s confession no longer had one, and some members of the audience were openly weeping. The tears were continuing to stream down Louis’s face. But they were no longer sad. They were tears of amazement and disbelief. Harry was saying this about _him._ On live television. 

The rockstar finally looked at him, and a pool of emotion swam in his watery eyes.

The wind rustled the forest trees and the deep green branches swirled, dancing in the breeze. Light rain pattered down, dampening the leaves, leaving them shiny in the light. Meanwhile, the sea seemed to have regained some calmness. No longer were fierce waves crashing against jagged cliffs. Now, a gentle current pushed onto the shore, leaving a light dusting of salt water in their wake.

Harry and Louis were finally looking at each other. Really looking at each other.

“Louis, you’re right. You’re not perfect, but that is what makes you so perfect to me,” Louis’s mouth fell open and Harry’s eyes widened as he realised what he said. Tearing his eyes from Louis, he turned to look at the other judges.

“a-a-and perfect to everyone else. Drake, Ariana, I know that asking you to pick between your contestant and mine is a longshot, but I know you can see how special he is. Don’t let him go,”

===

Clothes were piled high on Louis’s bed, haphazardly chucked there, from the afternoon. He stared at the mess, trying to comprehend what had just happened to him. He stood, frozen, in the middle of his bedroom, his mind racing and hands shaking. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be on drugs. Adrenaline was flowing through his veins, and the blood continued to rush to his ears. Louis Tomlinson had survived being in the bottom three, and it was thanks to his mentor.

It was hard to actually accept what had just occurred. What Harry had said to him was not anything less than extraordinary. Nothing had prepared him for hearing those words out of his mouth. They seemed to flow like a river, moving towards the sea. His lips curled into a small smile at the end of his mini speech, and suddenly Louis understood everything. He was so far gone. He was willing to surrender himself to Harry, to all of his bad and good.

Harry Styles was all Louis Tomlinson needed in life.

The forest needed water to survive, and the sea needed life to breathe. It was nature’s way.

Despite his feelings of infatuation, however, he knew he needed to have a serious talk with the rockstar. This was all so new, and he was terrified that Harry would flake on him again. He seemed to be an extremely fickle person. Yet Louis could not help but fall for him.

Taking a deep breath, Louis approached the door that attached him to Harry’s room, and knocked lightly. There was some gentle shuffling, and the door opened tentatively. On the other side was Harry, and he had never looked more beautiful. A slight blush crept up his cheek, and his piercing green eyes were wide, and nervous. His hair had been lazily shoved behind his ear, and stuck up all over the place like a bird’s nest. It was quite an endearing sight.

“Hi Louis,” He mumbled, his voice barely legible. He looked to the floor and rocked back and forth on his heels. Even though Harry was much taller than the lad from Doncaster, in that moment, he seemed small, like he was breakable. Louis desperately wanted to reach out and grab him and reassure him that everything was ok, but he did not. They needed to have a conversation before anything went further.

“Harry, I don’t understand you,” He confessed, leaning into the door frame. Only a few inches separated the two of them, but it felt like millions of miles. Louis watched with caution, as Harry backed away from the proximity, and allowed him into his room. Louis sent him a small nod, and crossed over the threshold. He looked around the room, still uncomfortable with how clinical it looked.

“Neither do I. I’m a mess,” Harry finally answered, and the smaller lad whipped his head around, and widened his eyes.

“Hey! You’re not,” He gasped, almost moving toward the star, but then he remembered. No distractions.

“But you’re so fickle. You leave me so confused, and I don’t know what to do,” Louis sighed, and his hand fidgeted, in nervous anticipation. What if Harry rejected him? What if he confessed that it had all been an act to keep him in the show? He braced himself.

“Honestly? I don’t either. All I know is that I can’t shake this feeling. I hoped you’d leave me alone, but you're still here,” Harry sighed in reply, and Louis’s face fell. Perhaps his fear was actually a very real reality.

“Why would you want me to leave you alone?” He asked, tentative and worried. He prepared to make a bolt for the door. Harry would not have the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

“Because you’re a good person, and I’m not. I’m a train wreck, and I’m selfish and carry too much baggage. You deserve someone better than me,” The self-deprecating words came tumbling out of Harry like clockwork. They were ugly, and harsh, and rolled far too easily off of his tongue.

Louis rolled his eyes and shook his head, not wanting to listen to them. Harry’s head was too busy looking at the floor to see, however.

“I’m not asking for you to tell me why we wouldn’t work. I want you to tell me how you feel,” Harry’s head shot up at the demand, and he swallowed. He looked anxious and unsure. Louis wondered what thoughts were swimming around his head right now. He could see the steady chaos behind his eyes, and waited for Harry to find some control over it. A subtle nod came from him, and Louis watched him take a deep breath.

“Honestly?” He asked, his voice a whisper. Louis nodded, eagerly.

“For years I built up this wall that no one could knock down. Then you came storming into my dressing room and suddenly I let my guard down. Right now I’m completely defenceless, and I’m vulnerable. I’m scared because I’m worried that one day you’ll run from me,”

Louis’s eyes widened at the confession, and he stepped closer to the man, hoping that his closeness would calm and reassure him.

“Tell me more?” He asked. Harry let out a small smile, grateful for the closing of distance and nodded, shyly.

“Every time I see you, I get so lost in your eyes. I can’t even think straight and I feel like a fool for getting so attached so quickly. I don’t do this. I don’t do relationships. I don’t do feelings,” There was a slight agitation to his voice, and Louis understood. He was angry with himself for getting so emotionally invested in someone, especially when he could barely take care of himself. It was a battle that neither of them were going to win.

“Well that’s a first for both of us,” Louis let out a self-deprecating chuckle, and rockstar smiled.

“Harry, you need to know that I care for you. I care for you a lot, and it scares me. I’m scared because hearts get broken all the time and I don’t want mine to be one of them,” Harry shook his head in disbelief. He stepped closer to Louis, and took his small, delicate hand in his much larger one.

“I would never break your heart,” He whispered, before closing his eyes.

“You’re my green light,”

The statement caused Louis’s eyebrows to furrow. What did that mean? It seemed sincere, but it confused him. How could a person be a light?

“Harry I don’t -“ He began but Harry interrupted, by inching forward even more. Their faces were only a hair’s breadth from each other, and Louis could smell his minty breath, mixed with cigarette smoke, and a woody cologne. He inhaled it all in, terrified that he’d never smell it again

“- My sweet creature,” Harry whispered, and then pressed forward, his lips falling against Louis's in tenderness, and yearning. The smaller man gasped, as Harry’s big hands crept up his spine, pulling him even closer. His lips moved, demanding Louis open his mouth. Trembling, he obeyed, letting the star's tongue roam every crevice and detail.

Their kiss was different to the others they had shared. It wasn’t born of anger, or lust, or desperation. It was sweeter, and felt like oxygen. Louis would not survive if he did not continue breathing it in. The rest of the world spun so fast, it became non-existent, and he saw a burst of colour in a dull world. Mountains and green fields surrounded them. The ocean was a deep blue, calm and content, and the sun shone through the forest’s branches, leaving golden specks on the leaves.

Louis had never understood the romantic poets. He’d found their work confusing and pathetic. How could someone care so much for a person, that they’d write a poem full of cliches and desperation? Now, he understood. He understood their infatuation, and their desire to try and capture it. It was a moment that he never wanted to end.

In one smooth sweep, Harry picked Louis up and placed him on the neat, freshly made bed, like he was a piece of fine china. He looked nervous and a little unsure, so Louis rolled his eyes, and pulled him down. Harry collapsed, making a grunt and chuckled a little as they bumped heads. The Doncaster lad smiled, before rolling the two over so he was straddling him. Harry’s smile faltered and he let out a breathy moan, as Louis attacked his neck. The animalistic sound made him grin, and he moved lower, and lower, teasing and leaving marks on Harry's skin, making him gasp for air. Eventually Louis reached his thighs and braille shot up on Harry's milky, pale legs, as he squirmed. The smaller lad paused, but Harry breathily told him to keep going. He nodded, opening up the taller man’s legs, and the two fell into blissful harmony…


	18. XVIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Firstly, thank you for reading! I never expected to have this response in just over a week! As a thank you, I've gone a little crazy on this chapter and it is my longest yet (5300+ words) I really hope you enjoy reading it, as much as i did, writing it

Warmth engulfed Louis as he slowly opened his eyes. Soft, wild curls were pressed against his face, and he breathed in their musky scent. A gentle sigh could be heard from the mop of hair and Louis smiled, wrapping his arms tighter around the warm body.

“Good morning,” A rough, deep voice mumbled, laced with sleep.

“Hi,” Louis whispered back, burrowing himself deeper into the homely and welcoming smell.

“Do you want me to go and get coffee,” The body turned around, and Louis loosened his arms slightly. Piercing green eyes stared at him, full of wonder and contentment. Their hand came up and stroked Louis’s cheek and jaw, gently.

“Yes please, H,” Louis leaned into the touch, obsessed with the feeling of Harry’s hands on him.

This was how they had woken up for the past three day. Limbs tangled in a knot of happiness and bliss. It was a habit that Louis was slowly getting used too, and he was not about to break it.

“I love it when you call me that,” Harry beamed his pearly white teeth toward the Doncaster lad before sliding out of bed, careful to tuck the covers over Louis, so he did not get cold. He nodded gratefully, and took in Harry’s naked form.

In the dainty sunlight, he seemed ethereal; carved by the Gods. His deep chestnut hair had a slight auburn glow to it, and his curls were tousled messily, like a regal crown on his head. The light made his sun kissed skin shine, like he had been dipped into pure gold, and his eyes glistened. They glistened like the purest form of love when the morning dew drops were placed on leaves in a dense forest, the sun just poking through the branches.

“You’re staring,” Harry mumbled and looked down, trying not to smile. The pose made him appear even more breathtaking, a tone of endearment about his appearance.

“Sorry,” Louis looked away briefly, slightly embarrassed that he had been caught.

“It’s just-“ Louis looked up again, his sea blue eyes searching for their green companion.

Finally they met, nature merging at a road not often taken. Louis was glad that he had taken the one less traveled by, and leaned into the protective dense branches. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He admitted keeping his voice quiet, like it was a secret. Harry chuckled, blushing slightly, before grabbing a robe and leaving the room.

Louis snuggled deeper under the covers that were still warm from Harry’s presence, and tried not to overthink his situation. In truth, he wasn’t sure where him and Harry stood now. He knew that they were not nothing, that much was certain, but did that make him his boyfriend? Could he even call himself that when Harry had a wife, and an established life without him? Was it even possible to be in a relationship with a closeted man? That was a thought for another day, another time.

Right now, he was too happy to really think with his head. Finally, he was here, and Harry was downstairs, making coffee, probably humming a Beatles tune under his breath, and gently swaying his hips. It felt surreal, and yet Louis never wanted it to end.

“Two sugars, and a dash of milk, just how you like it,” Harry announced walking back into the bedroom, and placing the coffee cup on the bedside table. Louis raised his eyebrow at it, and tried not to laugh. On the mug, was an illustration of a cat, and little ears poking out of the top, giving it a 3D effect.

“What? Did I get your order wrong?” Harry began to panic, misreading Louis’s attempts not to giggle as a frown. The urgent worry in his voice tipped the smaller lad over the edge, and he burst into fits of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Amusement was now laced in Harry’s voice, and a smirk formed on his plump lips that were still raw from the excessive kissing the night before.

“Nothing. You just really like cats don’t you?” Louis was referring to eccentric ornaments littered all over the house, especially those in his guest room. Harry flushed excessively and looked down.

“They’re cute ok?” He admitted, heat rising to his cheeks, the blooming pink colour flushed against his delicate freckled skin.

“They’re certainly better than dogs,”

Louis gasped dramatically, his hand falling onto his chest in mock-horror.

“Take that back,” He challenged, and Harry raised his thick eyebrows. The smirk returned to his face and he shook his head.

“Nope. They’re regal and dignified. Dogs are attention whores,” He concluded, seemingly proud of himself.

“you remind me of a dog,” Louis replied as Harry took a sip from his coffee cup. In contrast to him, he had rich black coffee, with no sugar. The first time Louis had taken a sip he’d almost gagged.

“Excuse me?!” A cough spluttered out of the star, as he choked on the dark liquid. He turned his body towards Louis, and narrowed his eyes. The reaction left a warm feeling in the smaller lad’s belly and he smiled, sweetly.

“Like a Labrador. All cuddly and soft,” He went to pet Harry’s hair, and the man leant into it, closing his eyes and sighing softly. His submissiveness created a knot in Louis’s stomach that he could not place, but it was not caused by lust.

“That’s actually kinda sweet,” Harry admitted, opening his eyes and moving closer to his companion. His bright green irises were fluorescent and bright, like a beacon drawing his victim in and his dark pupils seemed to have stars in them, resembling the night sky. Louis could not help but narrow the gap between them. Harry’s breath was warm against his skin, and whilst Louis was addicted to the feeling, the stench of bitter coffee made him squirm.

“Yeah and like all dogs, you have disgusting breath. Get away from me,” He laughed, shoving his mentor’s face away. The action resulted in Harry grabbing his cheeks and pulling him towards him, using his long, lean legs to trap his small body in place.

“What’s wrong with my breath, Louis? Do you not like coffee breath?” He asked, before littering his face with hundreds of little kisses. Every piece of contact on the Doncaster lad’s skin was like lightning and he gasped, and giggled hysterically.

“Noooo Harry, stopppp” He whined, as he struggled in the bed, trying to regain control. The taller lad laughed more and dived in, attacking his mouth with a wet and sloppy kiss, ensuring Louis could taste every single bit of that coffee.

“You’re disgusting,” He moaned, finally gaining some leverage and using his legs to flip the two over, so that he was on top, straddling the rockstar’s lap.

Harry smirked, and ran a hand down Louis’s naked thigh, before reaching behind and grabbing his ass. He pulled them closer together until they were chest to chest, and Louis looked down into his forest green eyes.

‘yet still you’re in my bed,” He laughed, and Louis whined. He leant down and took his mouth in his, hoping to smother the childish giggles. Just as the kiss was becoming more heated, there was a knock on the door and Harry groaned, pushing Louis off of his lap, and placing him gently back onto the mattress.

“Harry, it’s Jamie,” A voice was heard through the door, and Harry sighed, shoving his face into a pillow, clearly frustrated.

“You’ve got a meeting in 45 minutes. You need to get ready,” Seeing the star’s shoulders tense, Louis reached out and began to massage them softly, hoping it would ease the stress. The action caused Harry’s eyelashes to flutter and a deep, animalistic moan to escape his plump lips.

“Harry?” Jamie called out again.

“Okay,” Harry squeaked back, clearly trying to suppress another sound. Louis tried his best not to laugh as he looked at his face. He was evidently full of concentration; his eyes were focused and his teeth were scraping against his lip. Against his better judgement, he pushed harder into the massage, and attached his lips to the skin on his shoulder. Harry cried out in both pleasure and pain, and Louis pulled away, satisfied. His mentor gave him a dirty look when he saw the smug grin written across his face.

“Right okay,” Jamie continued through the door. “I’ll see you later, don’t be late,” Harry rolled his eyes, and flung the covers off of himself, dramatically.

“Oh and Louis,” Louis froze and looked up, meeting Harry’s eyes, who seemed equally shocked and confused.

“Your friend is gonna be here in an hour, so I’d stop torturing Haz and go and get ready,” After that, Louis heard footsteps retreat down the corridor. His mouth dropped open and his brows knotted in stupefaction.

“How does he?” Louis did not even have to finish the question before Harry answered.

“I’ve learnt not to ask questions,”

==

Louis’s face was glued to his bedroom window, leaving foggy marks on the glass. He was nervous with anticipation, and practically shaking on the spot. Today, Niall was finally coming to visit him, and he could barely contain his excitement. This was the longest they had gone in three years without seeing each other physically, and Louis missed his shrill, loud, Irish voice.

He wondered what he would make of the house, and the cars, and the theatrical aspect of it all. Sometimes, it did feel like stepping into a fairytale. But most of all, Louis wondered what Niall would make of Harry. In the back of his mind was a hint of concern. He knew that Niall was not the biggest fan of him. He had expressed that over the phone a few times, but he hoped that he may warm up to him in person.

Besides, Louis liked to tell himself that Harry had changed a lot in the past few days. He had only been high once, and that had apparently been an ‘honest mistake’. In normal circumstances, with his head properly screwed on, the lad from Doncaster would ponder how taking a line of Cocaine could be a mistake, but he didn’t. Louis Tomlinson was too drunk on love, too high on Harry’s cologne to think straight.

Moving away from the window, he sat on the bed with a sigh, and tried not to let his mind wander to overgrown forests, with mossy floors, and damp leaves. He tried not to think of broken bark, lying discarded and gentle whispers in the branches. Instead, he filled his head with the sounds of ocean waves crashing against the shore and boisterous waters pulling him downwards into a deep blue world.

“Louis!” A familiar voice called out, and Louis opened his eyes, long eyelashes fluttering. In front of him was a jolly irishman, dressed head to toe in sportswear, with a large overnight bag flung over his shoulder.

“Niall, hey I missed you!” Louis threw himself at his friend who let out a rambunctious and booming laugh.

The two stayed in the embrace for a moment, Louis taking in Niall’s scent. He smelt like Doncaster, and it made him oddly homesick. There was a hint of car fumes and pollution clinging to his shirt, and the subtle scent of last night’s pub visit still clinging to his hair. It was Niall who pulled away first, and he sent Louis a dazzling smile.

“Dude I cannot believe this place,” He looked around the bedroom, raising an eyebrow at the made bed, but not making any comments. Louis did not have the heart to tell him that this was actually the smallest bedroom in the house, and simply nodded.

“Neither can I,” He laughed, closing his eyes briefly. He had missed Niall’s loud antics and unnecessary jokes, and it was a comforting feeling to be in his presence again.

“You’ll have to give me a tour,” He giggled enthusiastically, grabbing the smaller lad by the arm and tugging him along.

“That might take a while. It’s pretty big,” Louis warned. His Irish friend had the attention span of a four year old and he could already tell that he would not be able to handle a complete tour of Harry’s mansion without breaking something.

“I cannot believe you’re banging the owner of a castle,” Niall wiggled his eyebrows, cheekily, and Louis rolled his eyes. After the night of the results and its aftermath, he had spent hours on the phone to Niall, explaining what had happened. His friend had listened but did not really make any comments other than _‘he’s still married, loubear’_ and _‘get it girlll’_ neither of which had been useful contributions to the discussion.

“Niall-“ He tried to argue, but it resulted in an eye roll from his friend.

“What? If you’re gonna be Monica Lewinsky, you might as well own it,” Louis sighed, tired of hearing her name. It seemed to be a running joke that Niall had taken it upon himself to make, but the situation had been completely different. He shook his head and frowned.

“It’s not like that. Me and Harry- we’re-“ Before he could get any further, a mop of messy hair came striding into the room wearing a vintage Gucci t-shirt, and some tight skinny jeans, that showed off his strong thighs magnificently.

“I heard my name,” Harry Styles smirked, interrupting Louis and sending him a lopsided grin.

“And with Lewinsky comes Clinton,” Niall muttered under his breath and his friend shot him a warning glare. The Irish lad smirked and held his hand out for the rockstar to shake.

“I’m Niall. Pleasure to meet ya,” he said in his Irish brogue, his eyes glistening with mischief.

Harry turned his attention from Louis, to his friend and he took him in. His eyes glanced up and down, lingering a little too long on his overnight bag.

“Harry” He replied, lazily, not bothering to reciprocate the handshake. Niall’s hand dropped and his smile faltered.

Harry then turned from the Irishman, and to Louis with narrowed, accusing eyes.

“Louis I didn’t know your guest was staying the night,” His jade green eyes flicked to the overnight bag once more, and Louis sighed. He was jealous.

“You did,” He challenged. “I told you about it a couple of nights ago,” He suspected that Harry had forgotten. That night had been a whirlwind and he had _accidentally_ gotten high, which probably explained the memory loss. Harry had also reached this conclusion and frowned.

“Oh right,” He said, looking at his shoes. Envy was causing his shoulders to tense, and he looked ready to curl in on himself.

Sighing, Louis grabbed his arm and pulled him to the end of the room away from Niall so that they could continue their conversation, without his friend interrupting.

“Don’t worry. He knows about us,” Louis smiled, trying to offer the lad some comfort. His hand remained on Harry’s arm and he gave it a gentle squeeze.

Harry looked up in shock, and backed away from the touch, eyes wide with hurt.

“Does he now? Who else knows?” There was fear present in his eyes, and storm clouds had gathered over his dark forest, lightning preparing to strike. Taking a deep breath, Louis tried not to roll his eyes, and remain calm.

“Harry, Why are you upset?” He asked as gently as he could, his hand tentatively reaching out to touch Harry’s cheek. Like a magnet, Harry was pulled towards him and leaned into the contact. His cold skin sent shivers down Louis’s spine.

“I don’t think you understand how sensitive this is,” He whispered, searching for understanding in Louis’s eyes. The Doncaster lad nodded.

“Word cannot get out that I’m screwing a contestant, especially a male one,” At that statement, Louis pulled his hand away in disgust, and narrowed his eyes.

“Oh so we’re just fucking now?” He hissed, trying to keep his voice low, so Niall couldn’t hear. Harry shook his head, and grabbed Louis’s retreating hand, squeezing it.

“You know that’s not what I meant. But that is how the media will view it,” He answered, and Louis nodded. He knew that he was right. He would be villainized: labelled a homewrecker, a whore, a Monica Lewinsky.

“He’s the only person who knows and I trust him with my life,” Louis reassured Harry before adding:

“Your secret is safe with me. Always,”

“Thank you, blue,” A wave of relief visibly washed through Harry and his stiff posture relaxed. Louis smiled, and tried to hide his blush from the new nickname that he had been given.

Changing the subject, Harry turned towards Niall and raised his voice.

“I’m hosting a party tonight. A lot of a-listers. Your friend is welcome to join,” He watched Niall begin to open his mouth, but Louis answered for him, not wanting to hear the protests or question that he was about to unleash on Harry.

“He’ll be happy to. I’ll see you later?” He grabbed Harry’s face, and pulled him for a quick peck on the lips. He then ushered him out of the room, trying not to make eye contact with Niall who was frowning.

Upon closing the door, Niall was on him like a hawk.

“I don’t like him,” He announced as soon as he heard the door click.

“-Niall,” Louis groaned, running a frustrated hand through his overly long hair.

“Don’t Niall me. He seems controlling,” Niall said, matter-of-factly, pointing an accusing finger at his friend, and frowning. There was a deep line present on his forehead, and his brows were knitted together. It was an expression that Louis rarely saw, and it made him slightly nervous.

“He’s just stressed. His job is pretty exhausting,”He tried to explain, hoping Niall would understand.

He didn’t.

“Didn’t seem like stress to me. He seemed possessive and rude,” He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. Louis knew that he was right, but that did not make Harry a bad person.

“Maybe a little,” He admitted. “but he’s just come from a meeting with Simon and well… I’d act like that if he was my manager,”Louis shivered as his mind wandered back to those times he had eavesdropped on his mentor. The very thought made him want to wrap Harry up in a blanket and protect him from the outside world.

“Ok. Whatever,” Niall sighed, obviously not wanting to fight with his friend.

“I trust you, just please be careful. This is a dangerous and complicated game you’re getting yourself muddled up in. Don’t get too caught up in his drugged up problems. You’re here for your career, first and foremost,”

Louis nodded. Right, his _career._

==

Five hours had passed since Niall’s interaction with Harry and he was in a decidedly better mood. His eyes were currently wide with bewilderment and amazement, as he took in the sight of Harry’s pool room. It had been decked with gold, sequin material from the ceiling to the floor, and bodies pressed against each other, their sparkling outfits catching the disco lights, sending wild rainbows onto the walls. Music flooded their senses and alcohol intoxicated their brains. Moet et Chandon was being consumed by the gallon and white snow covered the surrounding tables.

Louis turned to his friend, who was starry-eyed, and smiled, remembering the first time he had seen a party like this.

“Holy shit this is insane! How are you so calm?” Niall yelled above the music, his eyes not leaving the scene in front of them. Louis shrugged his shoulders and laughed, before grabbing two champagne flutes from a struggling waitress. He handed one to Niall, before taking a very large gulp from his own glass.

“I’ve been to quite a few. This is nothing new,” He replied, but that was a lie. Every party resulted in a different story, a different piece of gossip, a different celebrity escorted off the property by security. The very essence of the party oozed scandal, and it was becoming quite addictive.

“Louis,” Niall gasped, his eyes trained on one particular person. “That’s Kendall Jenner,”

Louis followed his friend’s gaze, and sure enough there she was, dancing on one of the tables, with her eyes closed, and a drugged out smile present on her face. She was scantily clad in a tiny silver dress that barely covered her, but she did not seem to mind. She was too busy getting lost in the music. There was not a soul on earth who could bother her.

“Yeah she’s at every party. I’m pretty she comes here purely to see if she can get into Harry’s pants,” Louis laughed, and Niall turned away from her with his eyes wide

“Do you think she’s ever succeeded?” He asked, seriously.

Louis’s mind drifted back to his first party, and his interaction with Harry. Rather embarrassingly, he had not actually known who she was at the time. He blamed the poor lighting and smoke in the Opium Den. He wondered if she was still bitter about how Harry had rejected her.

_Kendall I wasn’t interested_ ran through his head and he tried not to burst out laughing.

_“_ She hasn’t since I’ve been here _,”_ He said firmly, watching as she stumbled off the table, and grabbed a hundred dollar bill from a friend. She bent over the table, and Louis already knew that she was snorting a line. He swallowed and looked away. His eyes met Ashe who was on the outskirts of a huge mosh-pit. She had apparently ditched the champagne flutes in favour of a bottle of  Belvedere Vodka, and she was swaying gently. Her platinum hair shone in the moonlight, and Louis grabbed Niall’s hand, pulling him towards her.

“Hey! You haven’t met Ashe yet,” He cried out, over the music, and his friend’s eyes lit up even brighter.

“Louis! Louis’s friend! It’s nice to see you,” Ashe cried, spotting them both. She pulled them into a group hug, and giggled, clearly slightly inebriated.

“Ashe this is Niall. He’s my best mate from Donny,” The girl raised her eyebrows at him, and sized him up.

“Nice to meet ya,” He smiled, and held out his hand. She shook it instantly, and Louis tried not to cringe, remembering how Harry had simply ignored the gesture.

“You don’t sound very Northern,” She said, narrowing her eyes in a playful manner. The comment made Niall laugh and he shook his head.

“And you don’t sound very English,” He bantered back, referring to her heavy American accent. Ashe winked and turned to Louis.

“Ohh he’s sassy. I already like him,” The comment made Louis giggle and he could already feel the effects of the champagne kicking in.

“Good, because we’re keeping him,” The three laughed like old friends, before Niall protested.

“I’m not a dog!”

Niall and Ashe continued to partake in back and forth banter, and whist Louis tried to pay attention, his attention began to drift.

He gazed over at all the partygoers in their best outfits, having the times of their lives and smiled. Perhaps Harry’s parties were better than he had first thought. Speaking of Harry, he could see him in the corner, chatting with some people, and his feet found themselves weaving through the crowds.

“Louis. Baby. I missed you,” Harry exclaimed, raising his arms up for a hug. The Doncaster lad laughed at his antics and let him collapse into his body, his size almost knocking the smaller lad off of his feet.

“Hey H. You doing good?” He asked, running a hand through the curly strands that had been carefully styled earlier that day.

“I feel amazing. I’m having a great time,” Harry pulled away from Louis and jumped on the spot, eyes full of happiness and bliss.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” Louis laughed again, trying his best to ignore the fact that his boyfriend (if that was what he was) was on some form of drug. It was a party after all.

“Loulou?” He asked, suddenly getting serious. He moved closer, and wrapped an arm around _his_ contestant.

“I have something for you,” There was a mischievous glint in his eye as he reached into his pocket, and Louis stilled when he pulled out the substance.

In a tiny zip locked bag, was white powder, sparkling in the moonlight, like fairy dust.

Cocaine.

“H. I’m not sure-“ He started, trying to pull away from the star’s embrace. But the star had him caught in death grip, and was staring, emotion pooling into his eyes.

“hey. You’re in the big leagues now. Treat yourself,” He whispered, squeezing Louis’s hip. He shook his head, and looked away from his mentor.

“I’m not sure-“

“You wouldn’t want me to do it all on my own would you?” Harry then asked, his voice had risen in pitch and there was a hint of worry present on his face. Water threatened to pour down on the forest, and liquid seeped out of his eyes

“They’re all doing it with you,” Louis pointed towards the people Harry had been with and tried his best to comfort him, but Harry shook his head.

“But I don’t like them. I like you and I want you to feel as amazing as I do,” Louis had never given into peer pressure in his life, and whilst he had done a lot of fucked up things, he had never snorted coke. His mum had always made him promise he would never touch it. But seeing Harry so upset, and him being the cause, made his heart sting.

“Ok fine. I’ll do it,”

==

Louis felt on top of the world, euphoric, like he could fly. Every problem in his life that consumed him suddenly did not exist. All that mattered were the chemicals running through his blood stream, and the beat of the music. He felt hot and sticky, and his hair was plastered to his forehead. He probably looked a mess, but he felt amazing. His heart was beating so loudly, and it mirrored the rhythm of the music perfectly. He had merged with the sounds, and let his body flow, not caring about what other people thought.

Him and Harry had been together for most of the night, eagerly kissing in dark corners, and snorting lines on glass tables. Never had he felt so electrified. The coke amplified his senses and the feelings he felt when his lips touched Harry’s were twenty times stronger. He could feel every bump on the inside of his mouth, hear every sharp intake of breath, and could smell Harry’s musky cologne mixed with odd scent. It was sweet and floral, but there was something metallic and chemical-like about it.

On the dance floor, now alone, Louis continued to sway, his hand occasionally touching his face, to see if he could feel it yet. He couldn't. 

It was a strange feeling that he could not explain. He was within reality and without.

“Louis I’ve been looking for you for over an hour. Where were you?” A voice pulled Louis from his thoughts and he gasped, spotting his Irish friend. He had not seen him all night, and was glad to finally talk to him again. He threw his arms around him, tightly, and lifted him up into the air.

“Niall! I missed you so much,” He slurred, laughing.

“Why are you talking like that? Are you ok?” Niall gasped, pulling himself out of Louis’s alarmingly tight embrace. He eyed the boy suspiciously, but he simply laughed.

“Me? Mate I am on top of the fucking world right now,” Louis threw his arms up enthusiastically,trying to touch the stars, but they seemed too far away. “but my tongue feels funny. Like it’s fuzzy,”

Niall’s eyes widened and he grabbed the boy’s arms that were still waving in the air. Louis wasn’t quite sure who he was waving to, but he was sure that they would wave back.

“Louis holy shit you didn’t?” He asked, worried.

“What didn’t I do?”Louis asked, sniffing and wiping his nose on his finger. Niall took the action as confirmation.

“Why are you taking drugs?! Do you know how dangerous that is? What if it’s dodgy or you have an overdose?!” He tried to reason with him, but Louis was too coked out to care. Besides, Harry would never give him dodgy drugs. Harry cared for him, in fact…

“Harry will look after me,” He said, nodding to himself. He watched as Niall’s face morphe from concern to anger at the statement.

“So Harry gave you them?” He snapped, and shook his head. 

The conversation was becoming boring and Louis and he began to move towards the tables, hoping to get away from Niall. Why couldn’t he just let him be happy?

“So what if he did?” He snapped, harshly, and Niall’s eyebrows raised, not impressed by Louis’s sudden mood swing.

“I finally get it. I get why he does it. Niall I have never felt more alive. I feel like superman,” With that, Louis began to climb onto one of the tables. The action resulted in a few cheers from other partygoers and he smiled at them, before flapping his wings, pretending to be a bird. He felt so tall on the table, so unstoppable.

“Louis get down before you hurt yourself,” Niall tugged his hand, and Louis let out a grumble but complied, nevertheless. On the floor, he could feel the bass from the speaker and it infected his mind. Everything felt stunning, and breathtaking. This was how the world was meant to be viewed. 

“This isn’t normal. This whole party? It’s all a facade for the fact that he is a desperate and lonely addict. It’s too grand, too excessive. This isn’t you,” Louis tried not to listen to Niall’s words. He had no right to comment on Harry or his life. Besides, he was wrong.

Harry wasn’t lonely. He had Louis.

Determined not to let him win, Louis moved back into the party, and grabbed a bottle of Moet. He shook the bottle before popping the cork. A hundred pounds worth of champagne rained down on him and he closed his eyes, in delight.

“Niall. I’m in Hollywood now. Everything we do is in excess,” He laughed vacuously, before attempting to take a huge gulp from the bottle. Before the glass met his lips, however, it was yanked out of his hands by his Irish friend who looked extremely angry.

“for fucks sake Louis. You’re a working class lad from Doncaster, in a singing contest, who is fucking his mentor. You’re hardly Hollywood,” He snapped. A few heads turned to see what the commotion was about, but once they realised that the two did not possess a status high enough to matter, they went back to their drunken and coked up conversations.

“Harry said-“

“I don’t give a damn about what Harry says. He’s filling your head with nonsense and filling your nose with cocaine,” The statement hurt Louis, even in his drugged-out haze, and he blinked his tears away. The ocean was _not_ overflowing tonight.

“If you’re not gonna support me, then leave,” He said, blankly. In a way, he hoped it would lead to a grovelling apology. What he did not expect was Niall’s reaction.

“Fine. I’m not sticking around to watch you destroy yourself because of him!” Niall’s finger pointed towards Harry, who was currentlyn the pool, laughing. His clothing was soaked through, meaning that he had probably fallen in.

“He’s going to hurt you Louis,” Niall added, his voice a little more gentle.

“He won’t. I trust him,” Louis snapped, and then frowned, surprised by his sudden outburst. Stupid drugs.

“I don’t give a damn. I want nothing to do with it,” Niall then snapped back, moving away from Louis and towards the exit. Louis opened his mouth to protest, but his once best friend raised his hand and shook his head.

“No. I’m going to get my stuff. Don’t contact me again,” He sent Louis one more disgusted glance, before turning his back on three years of friendship.

Louis swallowed deeply. He felt sick and upset, and unsure on what to do with himself. He eyed a line of coke sitting idly on a nearby table, and a rolled up 100 dollar beside it. Without looking back at his friend, he lunged at the substance, breathing it in like oxygen. 

Maybe that would take the pain away. 


	19. XIX

Louis sat in the back of the car, feeling numb. Neither him nor Ashe uttered a word as they drove back from the studio. Every so often, he would sneak a glance her way, only to be met with her long hair cascading down past her shoulders, hiding her face. 

_How had they ended up here?_

===

When Niall had left, Louis had felt hopeless, heartbroken and betrayed. They had been through so much together, and he left, during one of the most important times in Louis’s life.

He just _left_.

Harry had tried to offer him some comfort, sneaking a kiss during rehearsal, watching a romcom just before bed, singing sweet nursery rhymes to help him fall asleep, but it had done little to dull the ache in his heart, following his best friend’s swift and unexpected departure.

Despite his low mood, the week had been going well. Him and Harry were in a good place, and the star seemed to be getting his life together slowly, but surely. He had even helped his two remaining contestants with their performances, finally fulfilling what he should have been doing from the start. Neither of them had spoken about the cocaine incident, but Harry hadn’t offered Louis anymore, and there had not been anymore parties. He did not want to upset the star, whose eyes seemed to glime brighter than any star in the sky: green and bold in a sad and desolate land. 

Ashe had commented on Harry’s mood change, suggesting that there was something lifting his mood. Louis had smiled to himself and kept silent, trying not to overthink her words too much. Following Niall’s exit, the two contestants had grown even closer, and spent almost every minute together, when Harry was occupied and they weren’t rehearsing. It was nice to have her. She kept him grounded, despite the madness that was going on around him with Harry.

One particular afternoon, the two had been sitting on the living room sofa, their legs wrapped around each other, as they watched dreadful daytime tv. The fire was lit and the sun hung low in the sky, sending golden patterns onto the floor, from the window. There was a warmth in Louis’s stomach and he turned towards his friend, only to be met with a semi serious expression.

“Do you know that there are people shipping you?” She asked, her eyebrows raised. Louis turned his attention away from the television, and tilted his head, in confusion.

“Who?” He replied, and she smirked, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You and Harry,” she replied, chuckling.

Louis’s eyes widened and his mouth widened like a fish out of water, gasping for air.

“What? Why?” He spluttered, a little concerned. Ashe shrugged, and looked back at the TV

“Because of his little speech last Saturday,” She answered as if it was the most obvious question in the world. The lad from Doncaster swallowed and looked down at his hands. He could tell her. Ashe wouldn’t tell anyone. They were best friends, but there was a small part of him terrified to face the truth, terrified to own up to what he was doing. What if Ashe felt as if it was a disadvantage? What if she thought he’d fucked his way through the competition?

No. He couldn’t tell her. And so he continued to act oblivious.

“What do you mean?” He said, trying to keep his voice light. There was a slight wobble to it, but the blonde bombshell did not pick up on it. Instead, she turned to Louis and cleared her throat.

“ _That’s what makes you perfect to me_ ,” Her British accent was scarily accurate and he burst out laughing at her Harry impression, shoving her playfully.

“Oh shut up,” He tried to laugh it off, but thoughts ran through his brain. Had they been too obvious? Would Harry get in trouble? He swallowed, and smiled, praying it would not falter.

“If I didn’t know you, I’d believe it too, after the way you eye fucked each other on the stage,” Louis could tell that she was joking but it did not ease the tension and panic that infiltrated his thoughts.

In an attempt to act shocked, he exclaimed:

“He’s married?!”

“And?” Ashe challenged, shrugging her shoulders.

“Married men have affairs all the time,” That was true. Louis knew it was. Even if the marriage with Taylor was a complete sham, the two were technically having an affair. He swallowed, nervously. He felt oddly guilty, perhaps it was the lying to Ashe, or maybe it was something deeper.

“You’re not seriously suggesting that me and H are having an affair?” He suddenly snapped, shoving her legs off of his. The conversation was beginning to irritate him, and he was worried that if his friend kept pushing, he would end up revealing too much.

“H?”

Like _that_ …

Louis sighed and placed his head in his hands, feeling stressed, and a little upset.

“I mean Harry,” He tried to explain, but Ashe could sense his frustration.

“Calm down, stupid. I just think it’s funny. I know you’re not having an affair with him, and even if you were, you’re here because you’re one of the most talented people I know,” `She wrapped his arms around his tense body, and he melted into her embrace. The two stayed curled up until the sun went down, and Louis returned to Harry’s bed, in the happiest mood he had been in since Niall’s departure. 

===

The words still rang through his head, and him and Ashe sat in silence.

_“I’m so sorry Ashe, but the judges have decided that you are going home,”_

Louis was not sure how he was going to cope without her in the house. He really liked Harry. He _loved_ him, but he was rarely around: constantly in meetings, and recording music, and his house was so big. He did not want his best friend to leave.

Almost everything that Louis had experienced since entering the competition had been with Ashe. The two had been inseparable, two peas in a pod (even if she had tried to kiss him once).

Harry was a forest, dense and intimidating, encompassing Louis and overpowering him with all his being. The feeling was incredible, if a little scary, but Ashe?

She was the sun.

She was bright and warm, and her hair shone like beams, brightening up his world and reminding him that even in the darkest forest, there was light. She let her rays cascade onto his world, and spread gold in every direction. Ashe was bold and free, And Louis was scared to face the darkness without her.

“Lou,” She whispered in a shaky voice, breaking the silence. The Doncaster lad did not reply. He simply took her hand into his own and squeezed it, hoping that it would offer a little comfort.

“My bags are already going to be packed when I get there. This is the only chance we’re gonna get to have a proper goodbye,”

Louis let out a whimper at that, and undid his seatbelt, crawling towards her. Both of his arms engulfed her small frame, and she chuckled, leaning into the touch.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, luv,” He mumbled into her hair. It smelt incredible, strawberry surrounding his senses. He closed his eyes and willed himself to remember the scent.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Lou,” She chuckled but there was a sadness in her voice. Louis tried to ignore the damp patch forming on his shoulder. He knew that she was crying.

“You gotta promise me something,” She then said after a pause.

“Anything,” He whispered, and it was the truth. He felt her smile at the genuine response, and he squeezed her tighter. She let out a sigh and pushed him away gently so she could look him in the eye.

“Don’t get too caught up in Harry’s world,” Her ocean blue eyes were flooded with emotion and tears, and her face was serious.

Louis’s own eyes widened and he gasped.

“What? I-“ He panicked, pulling his gaze away from hers. She sent him a soft smile, that was full of warmth and comfort.

“Lou, it’s ok. I know. I’ve known since you saw him and Taylor on the TV. Friends don’t look at friends that way,” Louis was not sure what to say. Watching Harry at that Premiere had been torture but he had been sure that he had hidden his feelings well. It was a talent he had learnt early on in life, due to his poor background. How did Ashe notice?

He thought back to their conversation a few days ago, where she had spoken about the _Larry shippers._ Had that been a test?

“Promise me?” Ashe asked him again, pulling the boy from his thoughts. He nodded quickly, unsure on what else to say.

“I will,” He whispered, and the two returned to their embrace in the back of the car.

After ten minutes, they got the dreaded announcement.

“Miss Willson? Mr Tomlinson? We’re here,” The driver informed them, breaking the silence.

Harry’s huge mansion, with its towering off-white gables, and decadent balconies loomed over them, its huge illuminated French doors acting as a beacon calling them home.

But only one of them would be going home.

“Goodbye Louis. Win this for me ok?” Ashe pulled Louis into a tight hug that seemed to last a lifetime, and the briefest of seconds all at once.

And like the sun, she was gone, leaving a dark smoky sky, and small lights flickering in the darkness.

===

The minute Louis stepped foot into that big old mansion, he crumpled to the floor, unable to breathe.

People had always compared him to the ocean, and like the ocean, he did not break quietly. Every atom within him sobbed, and groaned, and waves crashed against the cliffs, violently. His throat burned as he let out a silent scream, and the world seemed to mourn with him: the sky opening up and rain pelting down.

He was desperate to release an elemental rage on the world, desperate for his ocean to form a tsunami and destroy everything in its wake.

Louis Tomlinson was the ocean in the middle of a ferocious storm, and he was being swept up by his own tide.

Within the chaos and confusion of his thoughts, he heard a voice calling for him, begging him to snap out of his catatonic state.

“Louis, baby. It’s me. It’s ok. You’re ok,” a warm arm wrapped around the smaller boy, like a branch protecting its roots, and Louis leant into the touch, desperate for the forest to pull him out of the water.

He felt soft lips on the top of his head, and finally snapped out of the distraught trance.

“Harry,” He sobbed, his voice thick with emotion and fear. The larger boy simply wrapped his arms tighter around him, and the two sat on the floor, hopeless. The only sound in the room was the rain pelting on those huge doors, and Louis’s uneven breathing.

“Baby. You’re going to be ok, I promise,” Harry whispered in his ear. Despite his soul aching, a shiver still ran down Louis’s spine as he felt the man’s hot breath on his skin. He smelt sweet, and there was that constant hint of tobacco ever present on his tongue.

“I know. It just hurts and I’m scared,” Louis confessed, burrowing himself deeper into his embrace, as if he was trying to dig himself into a safety cocoon, away from reality.

“Why are you scared?” Harry asked. His voice was soft, and it was comforting, like a familiar song playing on an antique radio. The sound made Louis its slave, and he was willing to do whatever it took for the DJ to play it on repeat.

“I don’t wanna be alone,”He confessed, and felt soft lips on his wet cheeks. He smiled, despite everything and leaned into Harry’s crumbled figure, keeping his lips on his skin.

“With me you’ll never be alone. I promise,” Harry said sincerely. Louis turned his head, planning to plant a soft kiss on the rockstar’s lips, but the protective branches wrapped tightly around him untangled, and left him cold and vulnerable. He watched the tall figure lean away and stand up, brushing his trousers.

Harry was still in his red Gucci suit from the show, and there was some dirt that had gathered on the sleeves of his bespoke blazer, probably from lying on the floor. He inspected the damage and scrunched his nose in a familiar habit. Shaking his head, he looked down at Louis, who was still a crumpled mess on the floor, and held out his hand.

“Come with me,” He whispered, and Louis inspected his ring-coated fingers, before begrudgingly taking his hand, and allowing himself to be hauled off the floor, by Harry’s strong grip.

“What are we doing?” He asked tentatively, trying not to draw attention to the fact that their hands were still intertwined. Harry’s large, long fingers dwarfed Louis’s, and filled him with warmth. He smiled, letting the feeling comfort him through his sorrow.

“We’re gonna bake brownies,” Harry said matter-of-factly, a slight smirk present on his beautiful face. Louis tilted his head in confusion and opened his mouth:

“I don’t think-“

“Trust me ok?” Harry interrupted, squeezing Louis’s hand, and trying to pull him towards the kitchen. The smaller lad’s feet remained planted on the floor. How would baking make anything better? He wanted to trust Harry, but he hardly found the activity appropriate, following his best friend’s exit. Harry seemed to see the hesitation written across his face, and chuckled.

Hey I’m trusting you to use the oven. I’m definitely taking a bigger risk here,” He flashed his white teeth at Louis, and the contestant let out a small giggle, and his mind wandered back to their first interaction in the kitchen, where Harry had implied that Louis would burn his house down, if he had allowed him to cook.

“Ok,” He sighed, and let himself be dragged towards the overly large kitchen. There was a pleasant silence shared between them as they moved through the house, and Harry’s hand never left Louis’s, despite the clamminess forming.

“Whenever I was upset, Gemma would always bake brownies with me. It became a bit of a tradition,” He eventually said, as they entered the kitchen. His eyes were cast downwards and Louis smiled at him. He knew that talking about his sister was a big deal for the star, and he was proud of him for openly speaking about her.

“That’s nice,” He said, releasing Harry’s hand, and stroking his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah,” Harry said, finally looking at him. His eyes were wet and vulnerable. The sight made Louis want to wrap his arms around him, and protect him, just like Harry had done to him moments ago.

They needed each other, just as nature needed the ocean and the forest. Two natural wonders feeding off one another, dependent on the other’s survival.

“My mum would bake as well. And she’d let me lick the bowl,”Louis chuckled and Harry smiled, the vulnerability still present on his face, but the sadness evaporating.

“I can imagine that,” He laughed, and the sound was music to Louis’s ears.

He wished that he was a poet, or a great writer, like Shakespeare, so he could capture the magic of the noise in an everlasting love. He wished that he could tattoo it on his heart, and keep it on tape in his mind, so he could constantly replay it.

“We used to destroy the kitchen with the mess, but she always said it was worth it to see the smile on my face,” He continued, hoping to recreate the laugh.

The words made him unfamiliarly nostalgic and he traveled back to their tiny kitchen in Doncaster. He could still hear his mother cursing when the floor hit the ceiling, or his sister’s scream when she dropped the mixing bowl and cracked a tile.

I really miss her,” He confessed, and Harry nodded, understanding.

“I miss Gems as well,”

Silence rang out between them, as both of their minds turned back time and remembered their lost ones. Harry was the first to snap out of it, blinking hard and fast, as if he was willing the tears away.

“Right,” He said, clapping his hands together, and making Louis startle.

“Grab the butter, and the chocolate from the fridge. I’ll get the flour, sugar, cocoa and eggs,” Louis nodded, and followed his instructions.

The two got to work assembling everything that they would need, before Harry began to melt to chocolate over the stove. He insisted that the smaller lad stayed out of the way of the oven, and Louis did not complain.

Once it was done, he placed it in a mixing bowl, along with the flour, sugar, cocoa and eggs.

“Do you wanna mix?” He asked, holding a large wooden spoon in Louis’s face, and he smiled gratefully. At least this was something that he could not mess up.

“Sure,” he replied, taking the wooden cutlery, a little smug that he had been trusted.

He placed the spoon in the bowl and smiled. He planned to appear like a proper chef, and held the bowl firmly in his left hand, before pushing the wooden utensil around the plastic container. However, he had underestimated just how powdery the mixture was, and the flour and cocoa flew everywhere, seeming to coat every single surface. Louis gasped, and his eyes widened at the mess, and he swallowed, guiltily. 

“Oh my god look at my hair!” The figure next to him cried out and Louis bit his lip, trying not to laugh as he assessed the damage. Harry’s perfectly gelled, dark, chestnut hair was covered in white powder, and cocoa and flour dotted his face, like stars in the night sky. He looked absolutely ridiculous, especially with the pout present on his face.

“You look good enough to eat,” Louis eventually cracked, Laughing as he tried to lick his face.

Harry chuckled as well, and tried to shove him away, ducking his head.

“Ew get off me you animal. Focus on your task and try not to make a bigger mess,” He gasped, between chuckles. Louis laughed even louder, but was soon silenced by a playful slap on his ass.

The two continued to smirk at each other, as Harry mixed the contents in the bowl, until it turned into what resembled a brownie mixture. Despite the previous mess, he trusted Louis to pour the contents into a baking tray, whilst he sauntered over to the book shelf. Louis willed himself not to get distracted and he carefully placed the mixture into the oven. As he shut the door, music filled the room.

Knotting his brows in confusion, he turned to look at Harry who was rolling his hips to _Etta James’s I Just Wanna Make Love To You_. His eyes were closed, and his hands were running through his flour coated hair.

“Harry. What are you doing?” Louis asked, swallowing. The rockstar’s moves were oddly erotic, and it made his throat dry.

“Dancing,” Harry opened his green eyes, and smiled as if it was obvious.

“We’ve gotta fill the time with something whilst we wait,” With that, he turned around and started to shake his butt to the rhythm, slowly moving lower and lower, until he was squatting.

The sight caused Louis’s eyes to widen and he cleared his throat.

“I can think of a few better activities,” He mumbled, as he watched Harry grind against the wall.

“Huh?” The rockstar asked, oblivious to his accidental seduction of Louis

“Don’t worry,” The Doncaster lad mumbled, willing himself not to get hard.

“Come on. Dance with me,” Harry then laughed, grabbing his hands. He was warm and clammy, but the smile on his face more than made up for it.

“ugh fine,”

The star smiled and grabbed the smaller lad’s hips, willing him to loosen up. The whole thing was completely ridiculous and neither of them could dance, and yet it didn’t matter. They were both happier than they had been in a long time, and seeing Harry’s face light up with joy was more than enough for Louis to pull out his appalling moves and join him in making a fool of himself. Harry grabbed his phone from his pocket, and snapped a picture of the two of them, ensuring he captured himself planting a kiss on Louis’s cheek.

“You’re such a dork,” Louis laughed, and Harry shrugged, continuing to dance, despite the song coming to an end. 

The music changed and _Etta James’s At Last_ came on. The sound made Harry’s face light up, and he held his hands out for Louis, expectantly.

“I am not slow dancing with you. That is too far,” the Doncaster lad laughed, shaking his head. Harry did not take the news well, and began to pout. He looked utterly absurd and comical, with his bottom lip poking out, and big puppy dog eyes, and yet the face tugged at Louis’s heart strings. Harry Styles knew that he was wrapped right around his fingers.

“I hate it when you do that,” Louis mumbled, as he placed his smaller hands in Harry’s larger ones, and allowed himself to be pulled along with the music.

_At last My love has come along. My lonely days are over, and life is like a song._

Louis’s eyes closed, and he moved his arms so that they were wrapped around Harry’s middle. Harry sighed and buried his head in the smaller lad’s shoulder, his long hair tickling Louis’s cheek. The situation could not get more cliched, but neither could care less. They were too busy wrapped up in each other.

_Oh, yeah, yeah, at last the skies above are blue. My heart was wrapped up in clover the night I looked at you_

Louis’s heart raced, as he allowed his feelings to completely take over.

A great forest surrounded him; a fortress of jade green petals dancing in the wind. Wild basil grew freely on the clumpy, mossy mattress of the floor and a vaporous mist hovered over the lush, green limbs above. Lustrous gold peaked through the branches, and warmth engulfed Louis.

His ocean tide was coming in, and dragging him closer to the shore, ensuring he made his way to that mystical and enchanting forest. 

Louis Tomlinson was so in love with Harry Styles.

_And I found a dream that I could speak to. A dream that I can call my own_

Also lost in the music, Harry spun Louis around, head never leaving his shoulder. The two were intertwined, conjoined, and unable to ever separate, on a spiritual level.

_I found a thrill to press my cheek to. A thrill that I have never known_

Harry pulled away and grabbed Louis’s hand, twirling him around like a princess. Louis laughed and stumbled a little, before wrapping his arms around the taller man’s back, pulling him closer.

_Oh, yeah, yeah, and you smile, you smile. Oh, and then the spell was cast, and here we are in Heaven._

Their eyes met in a clash of green and blue, and the gods smiled down at their beautiful creation.

_For you are mine at last._

Harry’s thick, sensual, crimson lips crashed against his own, and Louis took a deep breath, feeling as though all of the air had been pushed out of him. The kiss made him feel dizzy, electric, magical. He moaned and pushed deeper into it, opening his lips for Harry’s tongue to explore every crevice of his mouth. His tremulously uncertain hands shook as they wrapped themselves around the taller boy’s neck and pulled him even closer. He heard Harry groan at the feeling of closeness and Louis giggled a little. He felt Harry’s large, clumsy hands engulf his lower back and he leaned into the way they spread across his muscle, caressing every inch of his back. He pulled away, flushed and looked down at his feet.

“Louis Tomlinson you scare me so fucking much,” Harry whispered. Louis looked up to see the boy’s figure hunched and closed off.

“Why?” He asked, confused.

“Because I would do anything for you,” Harry’s jade green eyes shot up and Louis swallowed as he tried to process what he was saying

“Why does that scare you?” He asked, a little confused. Harry shook his head, and his eyes dropped to the floor. His shoes, seemingly, were very interesting at that moment.

“Because I know that I’m gonna get hurt,”

“I’d never hurt you, H. You know that,” Louis said, reaching a hand towards the taller man and cupping his cheek, lovingly. Harry nodded, and leant into the touch.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” He sighed, and there was a sad silence shared between them. No matter how Louis felt about the boy, he could not forget.

Harry Styles was owned and trapped in a world of sorrow. They would never be free to love.

Sensing a shift in the atmosphere, Harry held out his hand, putting on an alarmingly convincing fake smile.

“Come on, the brownies are probably done. I’ll even let you lick the bowl,” He winked, pulling Louis towards the oven.

_What were they doing to each other?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Zoe and the bump on her head :(


	20. XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this chapter!!  
> Much love, Lucy   
> xx

Louis Tomlinson stood at the bottom of the stairs, tapping his foot impatiently. To his left was a suitcase and a backpack balancing on it, ready to topple at any moment. A flutter of hurried footsteps could be heard above him, and every so often there was a bang and a curse word muttered.

"Harry. Come on. We're gonna be late," He yelled to the rockstar, who had still not finished packing, despite starting two days ago. He heard a mumble, before dark chestnut hair and a stressed out, red face appeared at the top of the staircase.

"Sorry I'm nearly done," Harry called out, a little breathless. A loose curl swayed in front of his eyes, and he frowned, desperately trying to tug it behind his ear.

"Why is it taking so long?" Louis groaned, checking his phone to see just how behind schedule they were. It was significant.

There was a moment of silence, and Harry's eyes were downcast before he mumbled:

"I don't know what to wear,"

The confession caused Louis to burst into giggles, and he shook his head, fonding over the rockstar's childish, yet endearing vanity.

"Harry. You're going to Doncaster, not a fashion show. Most of us wear old t-shirts and chavvy tracksuits," He exclaimed, pointing at his own Adidas attire.

Harry sighed and stared at Louis's light luggage. The two were supposed to travel to the Doncaster lad's hometown on Thursday for a Factor 28 filming segment, but Harry had suggested a slight change of plans. He had shyly presented Louis with the idea of travelling down on the Monday night, so the two could spend some time with Louis's family, before cameras were shoved in their faces. Louis had been enamoured by the suggestion and immediately agreed. What he had not expected was how nervous Harry was going to be about meeting his siblings.

"I just wanna make a good impression," He mumbled, playing with the sleeves of the casual Gucci button up he was wearing. The soft pink satin material caught the light and danced in Louis's eyes, like water rippling in a sunset sky.

His delicate green eyes were open and wide with worry, revealing the envelope of his soul and all the letters it contained.

Sympathy formed in Louis's gut, and he sent his boyfriend a smile.

"Haz. Lottie is gonna love ya," He tried to reason, but Harry's slouched, hunched over posture did not change, and he continued to anxiously tug at his blouse sleeves.

"Stop worrying and get down here," Louis let out a gentle chuckle, and Harry stumbled down the stairs gracelessly, his long legs swinging haphazardly as he descended.

"Sorry Lou. I'm just really nervous. I've never done this type of thing before," He confessed, his cheeks flushing cherry red, and his eyebrows knitting.

"Babe," The Doncaster lad grabbed his hips, and pulled him in.

We're gonna be ok" Louis leant forward, and with one swift slide of his thumb, tucked Harry's messy hair off of his reddened cheeks, and behind his ear. Gently, he lifted the taller man's chin so that their eyes met, and when they did, it was a clash of blue and green.

Turquoise.

Louis then leaned in and brought his powdery, slightly chapped lips to Harry's cheek. The man's breath hitched, and he grabbed Louis's hand, two puzzle pieces coming together. When the smaller man pulled away, there was a small grin present on Harry's face, and a slight wet mark present on his skin that shimmered, as he moved.

They stayed still for several moments, just drinking each other in; having a silent conversation, until Harry eventually cleared his throat.

"I'll just go and finish packing then," He said shakily, as he retreated back up the stairs.

"Load the car with your bags,"

Louis smiled. In a couple of days he would be in his hometown, celebrating his birthday with the man he loved (even though he was not planning to inform Harry of that minor detail.)

===

The drive was quiet. Louis liked that. He closed his eyes and allowed the breeze to whistle past his ears and let the outside smells of freshly cut grass and flowers drift into his nose. Louis normally hated silence. He found it awkward and pointless but with Harry in the car, he felt completely secure.

The star was a surprisingly good driver. His eyes never left the road, and he gripped the steering wheel with an alarmingly tight grip. Every so often, he glanced at the rearview mirror, and his lashes would create delicate shadows cascading down onto his cheeks, causing Louis to flush.

Harry Styles was ethereal.

He turned his head away from the star and looked out at the sunset.

Bright shades of red, purple and yellow danced together creating swirls and patterns across the sky. Louis yearned to reach out and touch it, hold the clouds in his palm. shameless vermilion colours spread far and wide, lighting up the landscape around them. It was like Harry and Louis were driving through a hot fire and he was not opposed to it, welcoming the warmth with open arms. He let his eyes wander to two people kissing under a street light and he felt a strange feeling in his stomach. The moment was short-lived, and soon they were small silhouettes in the distance. He wondered what their story was, and how they had come to kissing in the open air in the middle of the countryside. His lids fluttered shut as he imagined different scenarios in his head. Perhaps they were the modern Romeo and Juliet, two star-crossed lovers with fate against them. The thought was silly and unusual for the Doncaster lad, and he shook his head, trying to shake the haze infiltrating his brain.

"Sing for me," Harry mumbled quietly, his hands gripping the steering wheel, and a soft expression on his face. Louis flushed, touching the driver's cheek. He caressed it, briefly, before looking back into the sunset, and releasing a sigh.

"Pour mercy, mercy on me. Set fire to history. I'm breaking my own rules. I'm crying like a fool. Tall stories on the page. Short glories on the fade. I've been close enough to touch but I never cared for love," Louis's gentle voice filled the car with calming whimsical sounds, and warm emotions. A sigh of content escaped from Harry's plump lips, and he ran a hand through his slightly messy hair.

"It's a church of burnt romances and I'm too far gone to pray. It's a solo song and it's only for the brave," Louis heard Harry's breath hitch and he turned to look at the star, whose face was unreadable. He loosened one hand on the steering wheel, and rested it on Louis's thigh, squeezing it fondly, before concentrating on the road once more. The Doncaster lad sent him a small smile, before continuing.

"If the truth tell darling, you fell like there ain't enough dying stars in your sky," He looked directly at Harry.

Ocean waves crashing against the current of emotion swirling around the car.

"It's a tall tale and it's only hello, hello, no goodbye," Once Louis finished, he pulled his gaze away from Harry, feeling oddly self-conscious. His original music was so personal to him, and it was hard singing to your muse. There was silence shared between them and Louis twiddled with his fingers, picking at the skin.

"You are the most amazing person on the planet," Harry sighed, and Louis blushed profusely, halting the fiddling of his hands.

"Is there anything you can't do?"

Louis shook his head and ducked behind his hands so Harry could not see how red his face was turning. He smiled a little and admitted the truth.

"I can't _not like you_ ," He replied. The confession made the star chuckle a little and he sent a dazzling smile of admiration towards the smaller boy. It made Louis's insides melt in the best possible way.

"Smooth," He clapped back and squeezed his hand which still rested on Louis's leg. The Doncaster lad's breath hitched a little but he managed to keep it reasonably steady as he continued their banter.

"I practised that in front of the mirror. Could you tell?" He wiggled his eyebrows which caused Harry's laugh to merge into something deep and meaningful. The sound was more beautiful than thousands of angels singing, and Louis yearned to put it on tape, and play it for the rest of his life.

"You're such a dork," Harry sighed, once he had calmed down, squeezing Louis's upper thigh more. The action caused Louis to fidget in his seat, and he tried not to make his arousal too obvious. Instead, he continued the conversation.

"I just like to work hard," He said back, still half joking. Harry's face suddenly went very serious. His eyes briefly moved away from the road, and he sent a mesmerising green gaze through the smaller boy's soul.

"You're gonna change the world, Lou," he said, admiring the boy in front of him. Louis smiled and took the compliment, even if it made his face incredibly pink with embarrassment.

"How do you know?" he asked nervously, a little afraid of the answer.

"I just do," he smiled, resting his hand on his knee, lovingly. His eyes returned to the road and his face moulded into concentration, determined to get them to Doncaster in one piece.

"You're a good driver," Louis said suddenly, before mentally slapping himself for the silly comment. Harry's eyebrow hitched and a smirk appeared on his face.

"You sound surprised," He laughed, checking the rearview mirror once more. The movement shouldn't have been attractive, but the way his neck stretched, and a single vein popped out made Louis's eyes widen.

"I just expected you to be..." the Northern lad paused, and debated how best to describe Harry.

"Reckless?" His mentor provided and Louis nodded.

"yeah," He said, watching as the man's large, ring-clad fingers stroked over the indicator, metal clinking with hard plastic, before he flicked the switch and made a right turn.

"I'm never reckless," He replied, his face set in hard stone.

That was an outright lie.

Louis raised an eyebrow and failed to suppress a snort.

"Not when it comes to driving," Harry responded and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the wheel, with a greater force than before.

"Why?" Louis asked, genuinely curious. Harry seemed so unbothered by everything else, so careless. Why would driving be any different for him? He was a multi-millionaire rockstar, who could afford to have a car repaired.

"Control," Harry answered, eyes not leaving the road. The concentration seemed almost robot like, and Louis watched his hand leave the steering wheel, and change the gear in one swift movement.

"I can control what drugs I take. I can control what I drink. Hell, I can even control who I wanna sleep with. But cars? There's too many variables, too many risks, too many lives taken. A car is much more dangerous than cocaine," Harry wasn't looking at Louis, but the smaller lad could tell that he was upset. There was glass-like quality to Yosemite National Park eyes- forest greens and murky browns balancing against Niagara Falls.

Gemma.

Gemma Styles died in a car accident.

Louis's eyes widened at the realisation, and he gasped at his stupidity.

"Harry I'm sorry. I didn't think-"

"Let's drop it please," Harry interrupted, and he nodded, sliding into the passenger seat, embarrassed.

===

Greyness was the first thing that Louis always noticed about Doncaster. It was devoid of warmth and wealth, and dull buildings littered the dirty streets. Rows of hideous 1970s houses lined the roads, and closed shops, covered in graffiti, amplified the deprivation of the area. Drunk lads stumbled out of bars laughing as they held each other up, and the smell of the chip shop seeped through the car's air vents. Louis closed his eyes, breathing it all in. Eventually, they arrived at a familiar street, and the car jumped up and down from the potholes in the road.

_'you have arrived at your destination.'_

Louis's eyes widened in wonder, as he stared at the tiny house in front of him. It was red brick and a little rundown. Paint was peeling off of the front door, and there was a small crack in one of the upstairs windows, but he did not care.

"Home," He smiled to himself. Beside him, Harry fidgeted and made a noise of disgust. Louis laughed and shook his head at how predictable his boyfriend was.

"You're such a snob," he accused him, in a playful manner. Harry gave him a gentle shove and swallowed.

"This is where you live?" He asked, a little nervous of his surroundings. In the background, they could hear car horns beeping, and rowdy shouting from the local pub. The street was not well lit, and Harry's knuckles tightened on the wheel of his expensive sports car. His eyes then went back to the house, and Louis could see him scrutinising and analysing every single detail about it: from the peeling paint, to the mossy rooftop tiles.

"For now," Louis answered his question. Despite Harry's reaction, he was still proud of where he lived.

"It's not exactly paradise but it's a roof over my head,"

Harry nodded, seeming to understand that Louis did not mind the grittiness of the building and looked at it with a new found appreciation.

"Is it just you?" He then asked, eyeing the empty driveway. Louis smiled as he turned towards him, curiosity making Harry's green eyes bright.

"Yeah. My sister, Lottie, lives in mum's house with Phoebe and Daisy. I moved out before she died. Didn't see the point of moving back," He answered matter-of-factly. Mentioning his mum's passing never got any easier, but he had learnt to suppress the emotions now.

Harry tilted his head in confusion, and furrowed his brows.

"Who are they?" He asked Louis, whose mind had begun to wonder, was brought back down to earth.

"Hmm?" He asked, waiting for Harry to elaborate.

"Phoebe and Daisy?" Harry pushed further, and Louis stared at him, a little shocked.

"Oh they're my little sisters," He said, nervously. Had he never spoken about his little sisters with Harry before? The realisation created an uneasy knot in his stomach. What else did Harry not know?

"I didn't know you had more than one sibling," The rockstar mumbled, clearly a little offended by the fact that he had not been informed of their existence. Louis swallowed and sent him a soft expression, hoping that it would ease his slight frustration.

"Yeah. We were a big family once upon a time," Louis began to reminisce about the busy christmases and obnoxiously loud screams every morning and night.

It had once been a place of comfort and happiness, now all that was left was ghosts of the past, and echoes of another's life.

"Dad left, mum got sick, and everything kinda fell apart," It still hurt Louis to acknowledge how much had changed from when he was young, and he tore his gaze away from Harry, and began to twiddle with his fingers on his lap.

His boyfriend reached over, and squeezed them, in a soothing manner

"I know the feeling," He whispered, before letting them go.

A chill ran up Louis's spine as Harry's warmth disappeared.

The forest and the sea. Two burning flames, dancing a tango: pulling and pushing, leaving the other hot and then cold.

===

Loud, aggressive bangs surrounded Louis's ears, and his eyes shot open, his body almost tumbling out of the small double bed. To his left, he saw Harry stir, and he patted his naked shoulder lightly. He waited for the banging to stop, but it seemed to get louder and angrier.

"Louis Tomlinson! Tell me why I woke up to a text from Mrs Sheffield saying that she saw you arrive last night, and you didn't think to inform me?!" Lottie Tomlinson's voice travelled through the thin, plasterboard walls and the sound-waves painfully gyrated against Louis's ear drum.

"What the fuck is that noise?" Harry grumbled, still half-asleep. His normally perfectly styled hair was pressed against his sweaty forehead and his long dark lashes tickled his cheeks. If it wasn't for the commotion that Lottie was causing at the door, Louis would sit there and stare at his beauty. Unfortunately, his darling sister had other ideas.

" _That_ is my sister," Louis hissed through gritted teeth, and Harry groaned, grabbing a pillow and placing it over his head in an attempt to mask the banging. Louis doubted that it made much difference.

"Jesus Lotts. I'm coming. Give me a sec," He yelled back and the knocking ceased.

Louis mumbled a bunch of nothingness, as he tried to find his boxer shorts and t-shirt; tripping over the clothes and he and Harry had thrown haphazardly across the floor the night before. He then took a quick glance in the mirror and tried to fix his hair. Unfortunately, his attempts were futile, and he sighed pushing it out of his face, before heading to the door.

As soon as he twisted the handle he was bombarded by the force that was Lottie Tomlinson.

"You're an absolute dickhead," She snapped, shoving him out of the way and inviting herself into his house. Louis raised his eyebrows at her, and she narrowed her beautiful blue eyes at him. Her long, bleach blonde hair was styled immaculately and her spidery lashes fluttered slightly as her expression changed.

"I missed ya so much," She whispered, before grabbing both of his shoulders and pulling him into a warm, and inviting hug. His body melted into her embrace, appreciative of the simple gesture. The arms that held him were soft, yet strong, and they soothed him in a way that no other person could, not even Harry.

"I missed ya too," He chuckled, pulling away.

How're the gals?"

Lottie let her arms fall to the side, and her perfectly manicured nails tucked a loose strand of white hair behind her ear.

"they're doing ok. I just dropped them off at Lonsdale," She replied, and Louis physically shivered. He still remembered Lonsdale Primary School well. He had hated it. A hyperactive child, more interested in singing and talking, really did not bode well with the teachers who were making minimum wage and already trying to deal with twenty five other naughty children.

"I think they're missing their big brother though," She added, and Louis looked away, guiltily. He hadn't spoken to them in over two weeks, too whipped up in his whirlwind romance with Harry. Lottie opened her mouth to say something, when a new voice interrupted them both.

"Lou? What's going on?" Harry Styles stood in his hallway, wearing only boxer shorts, and a satin robe. His messy hair screamed 'i had good sex last night', and he was desperately trying to wipe the sleep crust out of his eye.

"What the fuck?" Lottie gasped, turning to look at her brother, who swallowed nervously.

===

"So you're his mistress?!" His little sister hissed. Louis and her were seated at the kitchen table and Harry was in the living room, attempting to play Louis's old out of tune piano. Somehow, he managed to still make it sound good, and Louis shook his head. Was there anything that his boyfriend could not do?

"No Lottie," He replied, tired of the conversation. They were going around in circles and she continued to ask the same questions.

"But he's married?!" She exclaimed rather loudly, and the piano stopped for a moment. Louis swallowed, hoping that Harry could not hear their conversation.

"He's also very gay," He hissed quietly, and the melodic piano keys echoed around the house once more. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"And what about all the stuff they say about him in the paper?" Lottie then questioned, her arms folded, as she eyed him suspiciously. Louis hesitated and his mind wandered to the countless pictures of him plastered on the Daily Mail papers and the Sun website. They all depicted him as an out-of-control, arrogant, entitled rockstar, but the real Harry liked baking brownies, and dancing to sixties soul music. He liked making Louis a cup of tea in the morning and watching films, whilst cuddling. He liked to sing sweet melodies and he paid attention to every word that left Louis's lips.

Ok, he had slipped up a few times and occasionally took a few too many drugs, but that did not matter, because Louis loved him blindly.

A small smile formed on the Doncaster lad's face, and his cheeks began to warm.

"He's not like that. Not really. He's kind, and caring, and-"

"You're in love with him," Lottie interrupted, and Louis's eyes shot up to meet hers: two oceans meeting in the middle.

"I'm not," He gasped.

 _Liar_.

Lottie also seemed to pick up on this and scoffed, shaking her head. Louis's cheeks burned even brighter, and he opened his mouth, trying to defend himself. His sister beat him to it, however.

"Have you told him that it's your birthday tomorrow?" She asked, and Louis sat in silence. He'd hoped to avoid Harry knowing, as the man was bound to make a fuss. He had always hated birthdays as they reminded him that he was no longer a child. Lottie, on the other hand, loved them, and organised Louis's every year. They were always small: just a takeaway and his favourite film, but they were perfect.

She sent Louis a mischievous smirk, and started to move towards the living room. Louis's eyes widened as he came to the realisation that she was about to spill his secret. He sprinted after his sister, hoping to catch her before it was too late, but failed miserably.

"Hey superstar. It's Boo bear's birthday tomorrow so we're having dinner. You want Indian or Chinese?"

The piano stopped with a jarring jolt, which sent horrible ripples through Louis's ears that were still recovering from the earlier banging. Green eyes glanced up from the keys, wide and glancing between the two Tomlinsons before looking down again.

"Chinese please," He mumbled, refusing to meet Louis's concerned and guilty gaze.

"Good choice. I'll see you later. The girls will be excited to see you. Bye Harry,"

There was an awkward silence as Lottie swept out of the room, and both of the boys flinched when the front door slammed.

"Sorry. She can be a lot," Louis chuckled, trying to ease the tension in the room.

"I didn't know it was your birthday," Harry replied, still looking down. He seemed hurt, and Louis felt extremely remorseful. He hated seeing the rockstar sad, especially when he was the cause.

Harry Styles was rarely happy, and Louis Tomlinson had just hurt him again.

"S'no big deal. We normally just get a takeaway and watch Grease," Louis said in an attempt to defend himself, and Harry nodded.

"Sounds nice," He replied, voice barely legible.

"I don't think I've been sober for a birthday since I was fifteen," He then confessed, and heaviness formed in Louis's stomach. Harry had mentioned drug use with his sister when he was younger, but the smaller lad wasn't aware of how young it had started.

He wrapped an arm around him, and perched himself on his lap, careful not to knock the piano.

"Well I've never had a rockstar in my house before. Looks like we're experiencing a lot of firsts," He smiled, and Harry finally looked up. There was a sadness still present, but it was quickly evaporating, and being replaced by something a lot more playful.

"I guess we are," Harry smiled, before adding: "Boo bear,"

"Shut up," Louis laughed, before placing a soft kiss against his lips.

Home.

===

Louis tried to keep his eyes forward as he and Harry walked down the bleak and miserable streets. Each road looked the same, with grey council houses lining up like dominos, and to the outside world, it probably looked soul sucking. He was surprised that the star had not yet made a comment, however, he was preoccupied with his hands, picking at the dry skin around his nail beds.

"Harry stop fidgeting you're making me edgy!" Louis finally snapped, and Harry's hand movements ceased for a moment, before shaky fingers reached into his pocket and grabbed his silver cigarette case.

"Sorry I'm nervous," He muttered, placing a coffin nail between his soft, plump lips, and taking a much needed drag. Smoke clouded their vision, and Louis sent him a teasing smile

"You? Nervous? What happened to that rockstar who throws himself around on stage every night?" He laughed, as he walked up the driveway to his family home. The mentor shuffled behind him, evidently not happy.

"That's different. I don't care if people like me onstage. As long as I'm getting paid and having fun, it doesn't matter," He answered and Louis turned to see his face. Self-doubt and worry riddled his appearance, and his forest green eyes seemed lacklustre, like the trees were in the dead of winter, cold and desolate.

"Haz. We've been over this..." He started, as he knocked lightly on the front door.

"I know I know. It's just-"

Harry's words were interrupted by Lottie swinging the door open; a genuine smile spread wide across her face. Her eyes flitted from Louis to Harry and she saw the small frown on his face. Her happy expression faltered momentarily.

"Well well well. If it isn't my favourite celebrity and my twat of a brother," She said, which earned a small, but authentic grin from the star.

"evening Lotts," Louis laughed, shaking his head at her ridiculous banter.

Just as he was about to enter the house, he heard a stampede of little feet running across the house.

"Louis!! Lou!!" Phoebe and Daisy tackled him, their small and delicate arms reaching up to grip his waist. They smelled like cinnamon and warmth, and Louis closed his eyes, taking in the feeling. Like Lottie, the two had perfected the perfect hug, and always seemed to ground him.

"Hey darlings. You alright?" He chuckled, slowly peeling their fragile arms off of him.

"Louis who's this?" Daisy asked, pointing an accusing finger at the man beside him.

"I've seen you on the telly," Phoebe added, narrowing her deep blue eyes at Harry, who seemed to shrink away at the attention.

Louis placed a hand on his back, ushering him into the house, and gave him a reassuring look, sensing his nervousness.

"I'm Louis's special friend," Harry answered, and Louis squeezed his back, and snorted a little at his wording. Harry sent him a confused glance, and he smirked in return.

"Oh you mean his boyfriend? He's had a lot of them," Daisy stated matter-of-factly, and Louis's smirk morphed into a blush, and Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Daisy!" Lottie exclaimed, which only seemed to entertain Harry further. Daisy flicked her brunette hair off of her shoulder with a dramatic flare and Louis sighed and shook his head. He had been back for less than a day and his sisters had already embarrassed him on two occasions in front of his boyfriend.

"This is Harry. He's a musician and he's helping me out in that competition I told you about," He said, hoping to jog the twins' memories, and move past his embarrassing dating history, most of which included him being a man-whore.

"wait you sing watermelon sugar!" Phoebe gasped, realisation hitting her right in the face. She glanced at her identical twin sister who sent a beaming grin in Harry's direction.

"We sang that in school today!" She cried, excitedly, and Harry's eyes widened in shock.

"You what?! Aren't you like 7?!" He exclaimed, which caused Louis and Lottie to burst into a fit of giggles.

"What's wrong with school kids singing the song Harry? What's it about?" Lottie asked, hoping to embarrass him. The Doncaster lad tried to keep it light, but he could tell that she was deliberately trying to make him feel uncomfortable. He sent her a vicious side-eye, and turned back to Harry. The rockstar raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat.

"Don't ask me. I'm gay," He answered, and Lottie narrowed her eyes at him. Louis sucked in some air and waited for the response. The leggy blonde was clearly trying to keep a straight face, but ended up bursting out laughing.

_Well-played Styles._

"Harry?" Phoebe interrupted the exchange, tugging on his ridiculously expensive Gucci jumper.

"Will you play with us?"

Harry glanced at Louis, and he sent him a nod of approval. The man's face changed from mild amusement to open joy, and he took the hands of the twins, allowing them to drag him into the living room, where all of the barbies were scattered across the floor.

Louis smiled after him, watching his puppy-like behaviour.

He was _so_ far gone.

===

"so you haven't spoken to him at all?" Lottie asked as she swept around the kitchen, picking out plates, and cutlery. Louis had just informed her about Niall and she seemed very distressed by the information.

"Nope," He sighed, planting himself on one of the wicker chairs and placing his elbows on the kitchen table. Flicking a loose strand of hair out of his face, he tried to concentrate on the wooden grain of the table, avoiding the look of concern his sister was throwing him.

"What did you even fall out over? You two have always been inseparable," She shook her head, and sat on the chair opposite Louis, and tried to meet his eyes.

How could Louis tell her what had happened? How could he tell her that he had taken coke from Harry? How could he tell her that he had gotten so high that he lost all feeling in his face?

Lottie would never understand.

She'd never understand what it was like to be within the inner circle, to be in Hollywood. It was part of the lifestyle, but she'd react like Niall. She would call him reckless and stupid, and accuse Harry of being an addict. She wouldn't listen to his pleas that he had all under control.

No.

He _couldn't_ talk to her about Niall.

"I don't really wanna talk about it," He replied, voice wavering slightly. He would not meet her ocean blue eyes, and kept his gaze firmly on the uneven markings in the table. His heart was in mourning, missing a Niall-shaped hole, and it hurt.

"Oh. Well it explains why he left me on read when I invited him over for your birthday tomorrow," She said, messing with a nail bed. Louis's head shot up, and he froze. Niall had spent the last three birthdays with him and his sisters. It had become their little tradition. Perhaps their friendship really was over.

"Oh," was the only response he could muster. Laughter could be heard from behind the door, and he turned his head to look in the living room.

Harry sat cross-legged, as Daisy pulled at his wavy hair. She was attempting to put various technicolour hair clips in it, and using her nimble fingers to twist and pull at the wild curls. She said something and Harry burst out laughing. His smile extended past his eyes and deep into his soul, genuine and carefree. There was a purity and child-like innocence to it, as he watched Phoebe re-create the baby shark routine, and listened to Daisy's very entertaining story. One of his dimples popped, and Louis's heart, that had been broken moments ago, swelled with adoration.

Perhaps the forest was willing to allow more light into its dense foliage. Maybe it was open to new life, new possibilities. Perhaps the tree canopies were going to open up, and reveal the sky. Maybe it would allow nature to swoop in and protect its delicate foundations.

Maybe the forest wanted the ocean. Maybe the forest needed the ocean.

Not just for one day, but forever.

"He's good with them," Lottie commented, pulling Louis's attention away from Harry and back to her.

"He is," He heard himself say, before blinking hard, and looking back at Harry, who was sticking his tongue out at a giggling Phoebe.

"You seem surprised," Lottie observed, and she was right. Louis had not expected Harry to be so gentle and kind with children. He always came across so rude and impolite when he met new people and he had seemed so nervous to meet Louis's little sisters. Of course, Louis knew that he had the capacity to be nice but it had taken Harry so long to open up to him and he was shocked to see him so open with strangers.

"Ive never seen him with kids before so," He shrugged, trying to play off his shock.

"Yeah well he's not exactly going to be having any with his wife," Lottie then mumbled, bursting Louis's happy bubble. Frowning, he looked down at his hands and tried not to think about their situation.

"Lottie-"

His sister shook her head, however, and placed a hand up, indicating that he should stop talking. She stood up from the table and started to look through cupboards, pulling out various ingredients.

"Look Lou. He seems nice, but I can't help but feel that this is all gonna end in tears. What can he really offer you? He's trapped and if you stay with him, so are you,"

Louis looked down.

And so it was: two broken lovers hoping to mend each other in the dark, but unable to see the missing shards.

"oh shit" His sister cursed out all of a sudden, and Louis's eyes snapped up.

"What?" He asked, worried.

"I forget to get food for tonight. We'll have to get something from the chippy," He groaned, and shook his head. Her expression had been one of genuine panic and worry and it turned out that she had just forgotten to go shopping? She was almost as dramatic as him.

"Daisy? Phoebe? Superstar? I'm going to Jones's. What do you want?" She yelled into the living room, and the playing ceased. Harry sent a confused look Louis's way and he shrugged.

"Can I have chicken nuggets?" Daisy screeched and Louis groaned, rubbing his ear as the sound went right through him.

"Me too!" Phoebe's yell was equally as loud, and the Doncaster lad rubbed his eyebrow trying soothe the headache the sudden noise had caused. Leaving the North, Louis missed a lot of things, but the twins' unnecessary screaming was _not_ one of them.

"I'll have cod, and some curry sauce please. I can pay if you want?" Harry's voice was softer, almost shy, and his eyes were wide with kindness and selflessness.

Neither Louis or Lottie said anything for a minute, but shared a look. The order was going to be expensive, and Louis knew that Lottie was struggling with money. But the Tomlinsons were not charity cases, and hated accepting money. Nevertheless, Lottie begrudgingly accepted Harry's offer but insisted she paid for the food on Louis's birthday. The rockstar agreed, but Louis suspected that he was going to hide a £20 note in one of the kitchen cupboards.

"Lottie! Can we go to Jones's with Harry? Me and Daisy know the way, and he'll look after us!" Phoebe tugged on her big sister's sleeve, her eyes shining like pebbles washed by the ocean. Harry looked down at the floor, and Louis swallowed.

"Pheebs" He squatted down so him and his little sister were the same height.

"Harry can't really go walking into shops. He's famous, remember?" He said softly, and Phoebe stared at the floor, obviously deflated by the news.

"Oh," she whispered.

"Hey don't worry. I'll look after him, whilst you go with your big sis ok?"

===

The night was spent with elation and joy.

The rest of the world and all of its problems ceased to exist, as Harry and Louis cuddled on the sofa watching random television with Louis's dysfunctional family.

They were each others' sanctuary; each others' safe haven; each other's home.

Both of them laughed in sync as the twins performed in front of them, showing off their surprisingly well-choreographed dance. At one point, Harry joined in and the three of them performed a rather corny karaoke version of ' _All About That Bass_ ', whilst Louis and Lottie took millions of videos and pictures, giggling uncontrollably.

As the night dragged on, Lottie seemed to warm to the rockstar, sharing jokes and teaming up with him to bully Louis relentlessly.

Wanting to capture the moment forever, Louis took a picture of him and Harry kissing on his phone, and Harry grabbed his polaroid camera from his bag, doing the same.

They were just beautiful fools trying to navigate the world without a compass or map.

But that was ok, because Louis already knew where his home was, and that with Harry Edward Styles.

===

The bed was cold when Louis's eyes flickered open. He squinted at the sun that was blaring through his thin, cheaply made curtains, and groaned. As he began to become aware of his surroundings, he noticed the absence of a curly-haired, six foot tall, naked male whose back was normally pressed hard against his crotch.

A strange smell hit Louis's nostrils, and he took a deep breath trying to work out the scent. It was sickly sweet, like sugar or...

Pancakes!

There was an odd pancakey smell wafting through the house, and his boyfriend was nowhere in sight.

Louis smirked, and crept out of bed, slipping one of Harry's oversized hoodies over his head. Tobacco and vanilla clung to the fabric and he sighed, burying his face in the material. He then made his way downstairs.

What he was met with defied _any_ expectations in the best way possible.

Harry Styles was ferrying around the dated kitchen, with pancake batter all over his face and his tongue poking out of his soft, plump lips as he concentrated. He was wearing nothing but an apron that Lottie had gotten Louis for Christmas a few years back, and the Doncaster lad bit his lip, trying to suppress his laughter as he read the text printed:

_'I cook as good as I look'_

"Wow. I think this is the first time someone has actually used this room," He laughed, wrapping his arms around the taller man from behind and resting his face on his shoulder. There was still a hint of Harry's expensive cologne present on his silky smooth skin, but it was overwhelmed by the scent of sweat and sex. It made Louis's mouth water.

"You are supposed to be in bed," Harry spun them around, and placed an affectionate peck on his boyfriend's cheek, before turning back to the pancakes.

"Can't sleep without you," Louis confessed, his face flushing a pretty pink colour. The admission seemed to please the rockstar, and the corner of his mouth lifted up and he smirked.

"Happy birthday Lou," He whispered seductively and Louis gaped. Never had Harry looked so perfect. His hair was a mess of curls that sat like a halo on top of his head and his slightly tanned skin seemed to glimmer in the morning dawn.

The forest was thirsty for water, and Louis was happy to oblige.

He did not hesitate to grab Harry's hair and pull him towards him. The kiss was eager and aggressive, as if they were feeding off of each other, having been starved for a millennium.

Harry let out a series of moans and Louis smirked, pulling away from his mouth. The rockstar frowned but Louis's lips wandered to his neck and he began to suck and nibble, causing Harry to let out short, uneven breaths. His eyes were closed and the only thing that existed in the world was the two of them.

When Harry let out another breathy, restless moan, Louis could not hold it together any longer. He began to walk forward, his lips firmly attached to the rockstar and shoved him against the counter, forcing his legs open.

"Fuck," Harry gasped, shocked by the ice cold, stone countertop on his naked skin. Goosebumps shot up on his milky epidermis and his large hands squeezed and gripped at Louis's hips and ass as if he were made of playdoh. The smaller lad's jumper rucked up, and he released a sigh of pleasure as Harry's fingers poked and prodded at him.

"Best birthday gift ever," He chuckled, breaking the kiss momentarily. Harry's arm snaked around his small frame and he was pulled into a bear hug.

"Shush," the rockstar replied, before kissing him again.

Two forces of nature interconnected through the elements, swept up in a whirlwind of fire and emotion.

===

"And then I turn to him and I'm like with all due respect sir, I'm Harry Styles. I need you to let me through,"

Louis was sat at the kitchen table munching on prawn crackers, as Harry told his story gesticulatively, waving his arms all over the place. Lottie and the twins seemed engrossed in his words, eyes wide with fascination as he spoke.

"And then what?" The blonde asked him, incredibly invested. Her hand was resting on her face, and she was leaning into him.

"He laughed at me and then looked me dead in the eye and went " _And I'm John Cena_ ," The rockstar put on a terrible American accent, and it truly was ridiculous, yet the table fell about laughing, like it was the funniest story that they had ever heard.

"Why John Cena of all people?" Louis managed to splutter out between giggles, wiping tears from his eyes.

"What happened next?" Daisy squealed, and Harry blinked, his laughter dying down. He obviously had not been expecting that question.

"Well, I ended up being late on stage, and of course, all the media blamed me. They said that my ego was growing too big and I didn't care for my fans anymore," smiles around the table dropped and Louis was reminded once again that Harry's life was not all roses and rainbows.

It fucking sucked.

"H. I'm sorry," He gently squeezed the rockstar's leg under the table, and sent him a soft smile.

"It's no problem! I'm used to it," Harry said, a little too enthusiastically. Lottie sent her brother a confused expression and he shrugged. By now, he had become accustomed to his boyfriend's mood swings and ability to hide his feelings.

Unaware of the silent exchange between Louis and his sister, Harry clapped his hands.

"I think it's time for your present, Blue!" He smiled brightly and Louis tilted his head in perplexity, before groaning...

"You don't need to give me anything," He mumbled, reaching across the table to take his hand.

Besides, you already gave me a pretty good present last night when you-"

"Louis! The twins!" Lottie exclaimed, covering Daisy's dainty ears, as the young girl looked around dazed, and puzzled. It seemed that the innuendo had gone right over her head.

Harry laughed at the Tomlinsons' antics before clearing his throat.

"Ok so I didn't actually know that it was your birthday until yesterday," He gave Louis a side eye, and the boy shrugged, smirking.

"So I couldn't actually get you something, but I've been meaning to show you this for a while but the time wasn't right, and I wanted to make sure that we both on the same page and-"

"Harry, you're stalling," The Doncaster lad chuckled, and squeezed his hand, to try and ease the unusual furtive behaviour that he was displaying.

"Right. Um, Lottie did you manage to find it?" Louis's gaze travelled to his sister, who had a smug smile on her pretty face.

"Yeah. I left it in the living room,"

The star nodded, and released Louis's hand, going into the other room briefly. When he returned, he held Louis's _very_ old guitar from high school in his hands, and his eyes were glued to the floor. Without warning, he began to strum at the instrument, eyes closed, and face relaxed.

"If I could fly, I'd be comin' right back home to you. I think I might give up everything, just ask me to" Louis froze, as he watched the star lose himself in the music. The rings on his long fingers gently tickled the guitar strings, and his head swayed slowly.

"Pay attention, I hope that you listen 'cause I let my guard down. Right now I'm completely defenceless" Warmth engulfed Louis like the sun eclipsing the sky. The words coming out of Harry's mouth were the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard, and all he wanted to do was bask in the brightness.

"For your eyes only I'll show you my heart. For when you're lonely. And forget who you are. I'm missing half of me when we're apart. Now you know me. For your eyes only" There was a slight tremor in Harry's voice, as if this confession was the most honest thing he had ever said.

"I've got scars even though they can't always be seen and pain gets hard but now you're here and I don't feel a thing," Louis thought back to that night so many weeks ago, when he had comforted the star, after hearing his argument with Simon.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

"I can feel your heart inside of mine. I feel it, I feel it. I've been goin' out of my mind. I feel it, I feel it. Know that I'm just wastin' time and I hope that you don't run from me," The last line sent a shiver down his spine and Louis knew in that moment what he had always known. He would never run from Harry Edward Styles ever again.

"Harry I-"

"We're gonna give you guys some alone time. Girls, let's go." Lottie interrupted him and Louis blinked, and shut his mouth. In all honesty, he had completely forgotten their presence. With Harry in the room, singing that song, no one else existed.

"Louis, don't speak, ok? Let me say what I need to say, then you can say your bit," The star carefully placed the guitar on the kitchen table, and the smaller lad nodded, keeping his lips sealed.

There was a strange look on Harry's face, that was unreadable and his hands seemed to be shaking a little bit.

"Before I met you I was a walking skeleton. I had all the limbs and stuff, but I was numb and dead inside. Then you came along, and you woke me up from this coma I've been in since my sister died. You made me so angry, but there was something addicting about you, and once I got a taste, I was hooked,"

Time had stopped. The clock no longer ticked and Earth no longer orbited the sun. Harry took a step forward, and held Louis's hand. It was clammy, and still shaking but Louis couldn't care less.

"Coming here. Meeting your family makes me hate my management even more, because all I wanna do is wake up beside you and make pancakes every day," Harry laughed, but his smile was sad.

"I want to walk Daisy and Phoebe to the chippy, and I wanna post those stupid selfies we're always taking, on twitter. I want to be able to hold my boyfriend's hand, when we go out, and I want to show you off to everyone I meet. I want you. Louis Tomlinson. I love you,"

Salty water flowed down Louis's cheek, and he took a nervous, timid breath.

"Harry," He whispered, unable to say anything else. How could you tell someone that every time they looked at you, your lungs floated into the air like midnight smoke? How could you tell someone that every time you touched, time collapsed into a tiny speck before exploding into light-speed. How could he ever put into words how incomprehensible life would be without him?

Louis wanted to say it back. He was desperate to say it. He loved Harry with every atom of his being, every fibre of his soul.

But he couldn't.

No matter how much love Louis gave him, Harry was always going to be untouchable: a man unable to ever truly open up.

A broken _skeleton_.

And Louis wasn't sure he had the strength to be a resurrector.

So he kissed him, and hoped that Harry would understand. 


	21. XXI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me lol

The day after Harry's confession was weird. Not because of that, but because of the camera crew who had turned up to film Louis's family. It was hard to watch Harry pretend not to know them, and even harder to watch his little sisters struggle to lie.

It reminded the lad from Doncaster that no matter what feelings the two had for each other, they were still living a fantasy.

Throughout the day, they tried to find little moments: Harry squeezing his hand under the table, or Louis playfully tugging at his hair, but it was not enough. Not after what they had gone through.

The interactions left Louis feeling hollow, and Harry miles away.

===

The soft light of dawn gently poked her golden head through the expensive linen curtains in Harry's room. Her long shining hair tickled Louis's face and his eyelashes fluttered open to see Harry Styles staring at him: green eyes bright and curious.

"Good morning Mr Tomlinson," He smiled, nuzzling himself into Louis's neck. His voice was warm like honey and there was a slight roughness to it.

"Good morning Mr Styles. Someone is chipper this morning," Louis chuckled, combing his hands through Harry's messy, tangled curls. The action caused the larger man to snuggle further into Louis's space, and he released a sigh of content.

"I'm always chipper when I'm with you," He answered and looked up to meet Louis's eyes.

He seemed brighter and glistened like yellow diamonds; his skin was irradiated by the early sunlight. Warm colours illuminated the citrine gems hidden in his eyes and he seemed to be carved from pure gold. It was as though sunlight herself had created him, ensuring he encapsulated every single glowing and idiosyncratic promise.

It was mesmerising to witness his beaming stare and Louis basked in his rays, allowing himself to be sun kissed and tanned from his love.

Each strong and sturdy branch was silhouetted by the light and wanted to curl into Louis, protecting him from other dangers the forest possessed.

"What is it H?" He asked, still unable to quite process how beautiful Harry looked in dawn's gold. 

The star looked down and his green eyes seemed lost for a moment.

"I wish I had done everything on earth with you," He whispered and the confession made Louis's breath hitch. Somehow it was deeper than any _'i love you'_ . It was as if Harry wished to rearrange the universe in order to have infinity with his partner.

A shiver ran down Louis's spine and he reached out to grab Harry's hand; caressing the soft yet rough skin.

"Harry-" He started but the singer shook his head.

"Daisy once said that to Gatsby. I never thought I'd understand the quote, but with you here, it all makes sense," Louis smiled, snuggling deeper into Harry's chest, allowing his precious glow to engulf him.

"Did she get to do everything with him?" He asked, imagining Gatsby and Daisy's extravagant life together.

"No,"

The star turned away from Louis and it seemed as though the sun was setting and dusk was approaching, despite it being 9am.

That was the problem with bright things. Eventually they faded and all they left behind was ghosts.

===

Louis sat on the piano stool in the music room and stared at the fairy lights on the ceiling that lit up the room like the night sky. His fingers delicately massaged the keys and he played a simple yet beautiful melody.

Harry had left shortly after their conversation for another meeting with his management, so the contestant had wandered into the rehearsal room to touch the Steinway once more. The sounds it made were like chocolate and he closed his eyes, letting the music guide his emotions.

" _Expose me. Open me up. Make me feel all your love_ ," The words poured out of the man like a secret that could finally be told.

" _Remind me of my past, take me to your future. Allow me to bask and be your ruler_ ," He was not even sure what he was singing or why but it seemed to find its roots in the deepest part of Louis's oceanic soul.

" _Let me love you til death do us part. No oceans or forests can stop our hearts. Make me feel all your truth. Open up. give me your youth_ ," He was not sure when the liquid crystals began to trickle down his soft cheeks but they seemed to come thick and fast and his voice broke on the last line.

 _"Make me feel all your love,"_ Louis could not even sing the line, so he whispered it. His hands were shaking and his body was aching and yet he felt happier than he had been for a long while.

It was the first moment that he had acknowledged his feelings for the singer out loud and it was beautiful and perfect and he wanted to run and get lost in the labyrinth-like forest. He was willing to trap himself there forever.

Perhaps the future did not seem that unsure. Louis loved Harry and Harry loved Louis, and the two of them would fight the management. The star would say no to his stunts with Taylor and they would finally be able to walk into the sunlight.

Brightness would create kaleidoscopic colours across the ripples in the sea and soft light beams would penetrate the dense forest leaves and create glistening diamonds of dew on the green floor.

It was no longer that far fetched. All Louis had to do was tell Harry three words and he was going to.

He was going to tell him the minute he saw him.

===

There was a skip in the contestant's step as he saw the man he _loved_ sitting on the couch, with his face buried in a book. As he edged closer, he recognised the ghostly eyes and dark blue cover.

Harry was reading The Great Gatsby.

"Hey love. How are you?" Louis asked, waiting for Harry to turn and look up at him, but the star looked too engrossed in whatever he was reading.

He smiled, enamoured by his fascination with the novel and called his name again, this time a little louder.

"Harry?"

He finally looked up and Louis's heart dropped.

The man who looked back at him was not Harry. He was a fragment of the man he had come to know. He had glassy eyes and shaking hands and his pupils eclipsed his forest eyes.

Harry Styles had relapsed.

"What did you do?" He asked cautiously, and the man just stared at him, with a concerningly void expression on his face. He did not seem to recognise Louis at all and the golden light that had possessed his body earlier was no longer.

"Harry answer me, god damn it!" Louis snapped, growing more worried by the second.

The celebrity's expression morphed from vagrancy to anger and his brows knitted together.

"Stop babying me," He snapped, and Louis took a step back, shocked by his sudden change in behaviour.

What was going on?

"I'm sorry," He said, trying to diffuse the tension between them. This seemed to frustrate the singer more who slammed the book on the table, face down.

"I had a fucking meeting," His voice was sharp like a knife, and Louis flinched as it cut through his heart. Harry was scaring him. A lot.

"I know you did but why are you so upset? What's going on?" He asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering. He could feel his whole body shaking from fear and nervousness and prayed that the rockstar would not notice.

"They want me to do another stupid stunt with Taylor,"

No. No. No.

This was not happening. This could not be happening. Louis had it all planned. It was going to be the two of them.

No Taylor.

No stunts.

No lies.

"They want us to do a pap walk and I have to kiss her," Harry continued, unaware of Louis's inner turmoil. He felt sick and almost gagged at the idea. Memories of seeing Harry in Amsterdam flashed before his eyes and he shook his head. The ocean threatened to overflow and great waves were crashing against each other in aggression and anger.

"Why?" He asked, still unable to really process what was going on.

"Because of us, Louis. Because of the rumours," The star rubbed his nose and sniffed. It was an action that the Doncaster lad usually found endearing but right now it reminded him of what had just occurred. It reminded him that Harry had just snorted lines of coke. It reminded him that he was unable to ever face his problems sober.

"But if we stay together, then those rumours will never go away, Harry," Louis tried to reason. His voice was shaking and he was visibly shying away from the star's uncontrollable and unpredictable behaviour.

"Do you think I don't know that? For fucks sake, I'm the famous one here. I know how the industry works!" Those words stung Louis and he felt like he had been slapped in the face. Harry Styles was not just pointing out his superiority, but he was disparaging his own. This was how the media viewed him. An arrogant asshole.

"Say no," Louis whispered, still trying to recover from the nasty comment.

"What?" Harry spat, rubbing his nose again. It was red and sore, and all Louis wanted to do was grab his face and kiss it better.

He didn't.

"Just say no," He repeated.

The sunlight that had been carefully stroking the green, delicate leaves seemed to be fading quickly, and all that remained was a dark, thick foliage where no lifeforms could survive.

"Are you actually dumb?! What a stupid comment!"

The man Louis loved was fading right in front of him. Drugs and societal pressure created a darkness so dense not even the ocean could flood its earth shattering influence.

"Please calm down. The coke is making you hysterical," Louis pleaded, his fear increasing as Harry's voice rose in volume and aggression. The man stood up from the sofa and towered over Louis's small frame.

"It's not the fucking coke. You just don't get it!" He spat, causing Louis to shrink further into himself.

"Don't get what? That you can't say no?" He argued back, taking a step away from the star, who was swaying and twitching. The drug use was evident in his movements.

"I'm being blackmailed Louis. You know that!" He yelled and Louis nodded.

There it was.

The flame that continued to burn them. The secret that set fire to their history.

"And yet you won't actually tell me what they have on you. I have told you every detail about my life. I invited you into my home and my life and you still won't be open with me," The words spilled out of Louis's heart and he felt a punch in his gut every time they overflowed.

But he couldn't stop.

"Because it's none of your fucking business," Harry challenged, his eyes wide and predatory. Every moment that the two had shared seemed to retreat and all Louis could see was that man from the bathroom who had dismissed him within seconds. This was too much.

"relationships are supposed to be two sided. I'm not supposed to sit here and watch you get high every time there's an inconvenience in your life. I'm not supposed to listen to you go on about a secret that you won't even tell me! That's not how relationships work!" Words flew out of Louis's mouth like an olympic sprinter, racing past his brain and coming straight from his crumbling heart.

"You don't understand. I can't tell you!" Harry replied, running a hand through his hair, trying to tame his wild and unruly curls.

"Why not?!"

"I just can't!"

Louis nodded and looked down at the floor.

His heart had not been broken.

It had been ripped from his chest, and stamped on repeatedly. Harry Styles was pressing on each glass shard and shattering it until it was dust.

"If that's the case, then I can't do this," He whispered. His voice was quiet and shaky but it was the loudest that either had been.

"What?" Harry's head tilted in confusion and he took a step towards Louis, and tried to reach out.

He flinched away.

"I can't stand here and watch you destroy your life. I can't keep hiding. I fucking love you Harry but I don't get to have the real you, not when your whole life is a sham. I'm sorry,"

 _Finally_.

The words that Louis had been yearning to say flew past his lips, but they hurt so much more than he thought they would. This was not the happy ending he had planned.

"You love me?" Harry's voice seemed shocked and his eyes widened.

"Of course I do. I loved you the minute you opened up in the rehearsal room and I saw the real Harry Styles. I've been hopelessly falling for you for months but this is too much," Silvery tears formed in Louis's eyes and he blinked aggressively, willing them to go away.

"What are you saying?"

Here's the thing about turquoise. It represented wisdom, protection, hope. And yet, their relationship was anything but. How could blue and green get it so wrong?

"we're done," Louis answered, trying to fight the emotions swirling through his brain.

"Louis please," the star begged, reaching for his hand. But he couldn't quite reach it. The two were separate entities, unable to truly meet in the middle, and Louis was finally hit with reality.

"No Harry. I hope this secret is worth it because I cannot be with someone who doesn't trust me, someone who won't love me publicly. It'll kill me. It's already killing me. We're not good for each other," It hurt to say. In fact, it was the most painful feeling that Louis had ever experienced but it was the truth.

Harry Styles was a sinking ship. He was a wooden vessel that was going down and he was about to drag Louis with him.

"I can change. I'm begging you. I'm trying," Desperation seeped into Harry's voice and his drugged out mind was finally realising what was happening, having been void of emotion for so long.

"You're not. You hit one speed bump and you get high. You feel sad so you manipulate me into getting high. I lost my best friend because I was too blind to see it. This isn't growth. This is toxic," Louis had been blind to it all. He had not even realised how badly he was falling until now. He'd allowed Harry to change him and lost himself in the process. He cringed at the words that he had yelled at Niall and finally noticed how eerily similar they had been to that girl, Olivia.

_'I'm in Hollywood now. Everything we do is in excess.'_

He was turning into what he despised.

"Louis, I love you," Harry pleaded but Louis shook his head. He could no longer do this to himself. Harry was a drug and he was not about to become another addict.

"Sometimes love isn't good enough, Harry. This is over," He walked away from the rockstar and away from their future.

Harry Styles was a wildfire: reckless, untamed, yet undeniably captivating. But Louis Tomlinson had had enough of being burnt.

The forest and the sea would _always_ need each other but they would never meet, not without destroying the other. He finally understood that. The two were not meant to be.

As Louis walked away he heard Harry call out for him in desperation and he released a silent sob.

_"You were my green light,"_

Darkness now engulfed them both.


	22. XXII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmm sorry?  
> BTW the song that Louis sings is called Lost by Dermot Kennedy xx

"I wanna change my song,"

Louis Tomlinson was resting on a piece of scaffolding, backstage, tattoos mirrored in the metal. There was a bored expression on his face, and his demeanour was calm and collected.

"Excuse me?" The producer's face shot up and she looked at the contestant, shocked by his words. Louis shifted and swallowed.

"I wanna change my-"

"-No I heard you the first time," She interrupted before he could repeat himself.

"But Louis? The show is in three hours. I'm not sure that's wise and Harry-" Louis froze at that name. His heartbeat sped up and he felt sweat begin to form at his fingertips. A sense of uneasiness washed through him. He blinked hard, and tried to shake the feeling.

"I don't really care about what Harry says," He lied through gritted teeth, wiping his clammy hands on his black, skinny jeans. The woman narrowed her eyes at the statement but allowed him to continue.

"Let's be honest. We both know that he has done nothing for me in this competition," The production assistant's mouth dropped open at how blasé his words were. If only she knew half of the story.

"Louis-"

"Please," He asked, his voice a little softer now. He hoped that she could not sense his desperation in changing the song from the loved up melody of ' _Hey There Delilah_ '. Even the idea of singing that in front of the man he loved but could not have, was gut wrenching.

"I have all the music arranged and I don't want fancy dancers or anything. Just me and a piano, and the orchestra. Those guys are incredible. They'll pick it up straight away,"

The producer tapped her foot for several minutes and groaned as Louis's eyes pleaded with her.

"Fine. On your head be it,"

===

Breathe.

That was the only word going through Louis's mind as the assistant tapped him on the shoulder and gave him his cue to enter the stage. The lights were dim and he was unable to see the audience or the judges. The only thing that faced him was a beautiful white grand piano lit up in a soft, pale glow. His light blue t-shirt looked almost transparent under those hot spotlights and created a beautiful silhouette around his fragile figure.

Louis Tomlinson was exposed and vulnerable.

Around him, the crowd cheered but he could not hear anything: only the ringing in his ears and a sense of mourning and loss. Mourning for his lost relationship with a man he loved and mourning for the lost soul who sat facing him in the judges' chair.

As he took a seat at the stool, his soft hands carefully pressed the keys and all of a sudden, the crowd evaporated.

It was him, Harry and a pure piano in a dark room, full of unspoken, sinful secrets.

Taking a deep breath, Louis let the words flow out.

"When everything was broken, the Devil hit his second stride, but you remember what I told ya. Someday I'll need your spine to hide behind," Louis's thick Doncaster accent could be heard as he whispered the words to _Dermot Kennedy's Lost_ into the microphone. It was though the song was morphing with his soul and finding ways to weave itself into his complicated relationship with his mentor. The light illuminated his face in soft silver, as though the moon was shining down, and a blue and green hue danced around the stage, mirroring a never ending dynamic ocean.

"For fear of moments stolen, I don't wanna say goodnight but I'll still see you in the morning. Still know your heart and still know both your eyes," Louis knew that saying goodbye was the right thing to do, but despite everything, Harry's forest was still present in his mind like a tumour. Every moment he tried to erase it, it grew bigger and stronger and all he could see were green, piercing eyes. He looked from his piano towards the judges, and he was met with that same probing, perspicacious gaze.

"I could've told you 'bout the long nights, how no one loves the birds that don't rise. So you can tell the heroes go hide. My sense of wonder's just a little tired," The lyrics felt like a confession to his lover. The two of them never seemed to find their place in the world, and Louis was exhausted from it all.

He watched a single diamond tear fall from Harry's renaissance face and he looked away. It was too painful to be met with reality.

The beat kicked in and he could hear the orchestra surround him.

"But if only you could see yourself in my eyes. you'd see you shine, you shine. I know you'd never leave me behind, but I am lost this time," Louis loved Harry the way the poets loved nature, or the way great composers loved fantasy myths. It was overwhelming and he yearned to forever capture it, but it was too much.

Harry was too bright and he was scolding Louis's soft, delicate skin.

"Are we destined to burn, or will we last the night? I will hold you 'til I hold you right, but if only you could see yourself in my eyes. You'd see you shine, you shine," Turmoil and anxiety had been a constant factor in their time together. They were constantly met with a road that diverged in a yellow wood, unsure on which to take.

"So we'll run into the open. Keep your hand inside of mine, and then when everything is over I hope to think of this as better times," As Louis whispered the last line, his voice cracked and he took a shaky breath.

"The sky got red and swollen. I guess I never see the signs. There can't be songs for every soldier. It can't be solace every time you cry," When the singer looked up again, he saw Harry illuminated in green lights. They danced around his sparkly, opaque shirt, and sent cascading patterns onto the floor and panel.

Louis sang the chorus again, his vision never leaving Harry's.

They were two forces of nature, pleading with God to let them live harmoniously, but there was too great a distance between them.

"I was lost 'til I found you, now these songs will hold and hide your name,'' The first words that the two had uttered had been ' _oops_ ' and ' _hi_ '. Louis had been so fucking angry about his life. He had been dealt the short straw his entire existence, but Harry had offered him a release, a future.

"All at once was all about you," He remembered hearing Harry's sobs as he spoke with Simon and he remembered how they had fallen asleep together. Their breaths had seemed to morph and mould into one body, brazen desire and unashamed admiration obvious from the way they held one another.

"Since that night the moon has never seemed the same," As he stared at those forest eyes, his mind drifted back to that night when they both finally let their walls down. Louis had never felt so defenceless and was willing for his ocean to be completely drowned out by an all encompassing wildwood.

His voice softened and the orchestra ceased as he sang the words with a mellifluous tone.

"And if only you could see yourself in my eyes you'd see you shine, you shine. I know you'd never leave me behind, but I am lost this time," Despite every single atom in Louis's DNA loving Harry, he knew that they had to end. They fed each other toxicity and poison.

Harry was Louis's drug and he needed rehab.

A loud drum was heard and Louis stood up from the piano stool, grabbing the microphone and moving towards the front of the stage. The studio lit up in blue and green lights that hit every single crevice and surface imaginable. Behind him, the large screen projected gold and he was surrounded by fire, forest and ocean.

"What if the love you deserve is love you never find? I've learned in love and death we don't decide and if only you could see yourself in my eyes you'd see you shine, you shine," Despite everything that happened with Harry, he would never forget him, and would alway be grateful for the time they spent together. He hoped that the star would finally accept that they were the right people but it was the wrong time.

Sometimes fate wanted star-crossed lovers to meet in a supernova, only to explode moments after colliding.

Louis and Harry were two stars, struggling with the aftermath of a paroxysm.

When the last note faded out, the singer's shaky hands carefully placed the microphone on the stand and he finally acknowledged the audience. He was shocked to see the room in a teary standing ovation and audibly gasped.

His risk had paid off.

===

Bright stage lights shone in Louis's face, blinding him. He squinted a little and jumped when James's voice echoed through the speakers.

"Welcome back to Factor 28," Louis heard the audience cheer but the extreme glow from the stage lights rendered his eyes useless.

"Only one of you is automatically safe this week and the other three will face the judges,"

The contestant nodded and took a deep breath. He felt his ex love's gaze on him but he closed his eyes, not wanting to meet his stare.

"So without further ado: the contestant, who is automatically safe is...."

Shallow, rapid breaths escaped Louis's dry chapped lips, and a loud thumping sound was coming from his chest. Dizzy nerves overwhelmed his brain in lurid sensationalism.

"Diana! congratulations! Please go backstage,"

No.

It couldn't be.

"Louis. Ella. Josh. I'm sorry but you are this week's bottom three,"

Around him, Louis heard boos and hisses as the audience chanted his name and he looked around at the producers and James who were equally as shocked. There seemed to be a flurry of chaos as Diana was ushered off the stage and the audience became more and more exasperated.

What was happening?

Everything was twisting and flowing in fast motion as the judges spoke and made their decisions. Drake and Ariana chose their own contestant, meanwhile Jennifer voted for Louis.

Louis's future rode on Harry making the decision.

For the first time since his performance, he glanced at the star and the calm, tranquil feelings he had towards the star morphed into a myriad of worries.

His pupils were darker than the blackest night and seemed to to mock any hope that the contestant had. He stared at them, praying that they would show some sort of emotion but they were completely void.

"Harry?" James asked, unaware of the showdown between the two of them.

"what?" He snapped, pulling his jet black pupils from Louis's ocean eyes.

"Who are you sending through this week?"

"Who am I sending through. Hmmmm that's a hard question. It's a very hard question," Each word slurred together and he was hardly legible. Louis cringed at the millions of people seeing this live on television. They were witnessing a man at his lowest, heading for a car crash. It took every muscle in the contestant's body to stop him from going to the panel and hugging the struggling star.

"You see I should really be saving my contestant shouldn't I? I mean he's been ever so loyal to me," Those thoughts evaporated as soon as he saw those serpentine eyes glimmer with anger and revenge.

"But?"

"It's a shame his loyalty didn't last. What you," Harry's ringed finger pointed towards the camera. 

"don't know is that my darling contestant changed his song last minute without my permission," There was gasps from the audience and the room fell into a fatal silence, that was slowly killing Louis.

"That little performance you all just saw was all some statement because my contestant can't seem to follow basic orders. It makes me wonder if he actually wants to win this competition,"

"Harry please," Louis pleaded with the star, praying that he would meet his gaze. Did he not understand what he was trying to say in the song? He wanted Harry to see his potential and he wanted to help him. Why was he so angry?

"I can't put someone so unprofessional through,"

No.

No please.

This was not reality. Louis was dreaming. He had to be.

"So what are you saying, Harry?"

The man had not even said Louis's name. He wouldn't even look at him.

"He's simply not talented enough to go any further,"

 _Saudade_. It was a word that Lottie had once used as a wallpaper on her phone. Its definition was ' _a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost'_

Louis had never understood that feeling, connected with those words. Until now.

Every single possibility he had shared with Harry was over.

===

After over an hour of cameras shoved into his face and extremely invasive questions, Louis had finally been allowed to leave the studio. He felt deflated, broken and betrayed. Harry, a man who claimed to love him, had humiliated him in front of millions of people, and he had not stuck around to witness the aftermath. Anger prickled at Louis's insides and he spied the bright kitchen light from the corridor. Without thinking, he threw his expensive, borrowed jacket on the floor, and stormed into the room and glared at the seraphic, beautiful traitor.

In the devil's hand was a beautiful, antique cut glass tumbler, half full of honey coloured liquid. Beside him was a virtually empty bottle of expensive whiskey.

Louis watched as his long, slender, painted fingernails played with the rim of the glass, before he lifted it up to his face. He tilted his head back, exposing the veins on his neck and swallowed the poison neat.

After pouring and downing another glass, he finally looked at Louis, with glassy eyes and a drowsy expression.

A part of Louis wanted to grab the man and shake him to his senses. What was he doing getting so drunk and high?! He could overdose! But Louis Tomlinson was a very proud man, even though he did not want to admit it. He had a strong ocean that was able to battle even the toughest of storms, and he was not about to give tranquility at a time like this.

"What the fuck was that?" The smaller man snapped, pulling Harry out of his drunken stupor. His forest eyes looked up, the wind gently rustling the leaves, trying to let life into the murky darkness.

"What do you mean?" He asked, words slurring together. The tumbler was still in his hand and he gripped it tightly, glass clinking against his metal rings, sending unfortunate sounds into the silence.

Louis shook his head and pushed further into the kitchen. He circled Harry like an animal preparing for a duel.

They were two forces of nature, trapped in an elemental rage, set to rival the greek gods.

Louis could almost smell the dampness of the incoming storm, and yet he pushed on, waiting for lightning to strike, and just _prayed_ he would not get hit.

"You're so unprofessional! All because I broke up with you. Boohoo Harry. Shit happens," The words had no gravitas behind them but Louis was so angry. He watched the man process what he was saying, and watched his face morph into an alarming smirk.

"I eliminated you because you're not good enough," Harry's voice was steady, but Louis could see the liquid sloshing in his glass. He was shaking. His entire demeanour was hostile and panicked.

"That is a lie and we both know it. You're bitter because I ended things," Louis pushed further, wanting a confession. He knew that Harry had fucked up his life. He just wanted to know why.

"You really think that lowly of me?" There was a break in Harry's emotionless expression and a moment of sadness flashed in his eyes. He looked young and vulnerable, but it disappeared the minute Louis answered.

"Yes,"

"fuck you," Harry muttered back, taking another sip from his outrageously expensive whiskey glass that probably cost more than Louis's yearly mortgage.

The irony.

"No fuck you. You don't get to do that. You swan around with your fancy cars and your privileged life, and you still don't seem to have a grasp on reality!" Louis pointed to the glass in Harry's hand, that was rimmed with gold and the exorbitant bottle of Macallan whiskey that sat, almost empty, beside him.

"You have no idea what this competition meant to me, what it meant to my family. You don't get to fuck up my life because I broke your heart!" Louis felt sick. He had allowed Harry into his home. He had allowed him to meet his family, and he betrayed him. He had played with his younger sisters and bought them food and he had betrayed _them._

Unaware of the anger bubbling in Louis's breaking heart, Harry continued in a rude and blasé manner.

"You think you broke my heart? Hate to break it to you, princess, but you didn't," Louis narrowed his eyes at the nickname, but did not buy a single word the star was saying.

"Oh please." He rolled his eyes, pushing further into the kitchen. In the midnight glow, and the mood lighting from the counter top, he was illuminated in emeralds. Green danced across his skin and set off his ocean blue eyes in a mesmerising way.

"You don't like that I can see through you. You don't like that I called you out for what you are. An _addict_. It's pathetic. I mean look at you. You can't stand to see someone who you're in love with, succeed without your sorry ass," The green light changed into a fiery red and the two stood in a burning heat of anger and frustration. They were two predators, waiting to spill blood.

Harry stood up straighter and took another sip from the tumbler, finishing the drink. Louis watched has his face scrunched up a little from the strong taste, before morphing into complete calmness.

"I was not actually in love, but I suppose I felt a sort of tender curiosity," The words seemed rehearsed, like they were not Harry's own.

"You think I was being serious? Louis I was bored and you were desperate!" Louis watched as Harry's once open eyes built new walls. They were going up brick by brick and they were impenetrable.

"What?" He whispered, feeling the storm begin to direct the motion of his waves. The current was beginning to spiral, pulling him down. Louis was a strong swimmer but he was not sure he would survive these treacherous waters.

"It was so easy to make you drop your pants. All I had to do was pretend to care a little bit and you practically creamed yourself. Kinda sad really," The words continued to flow out of Harry's mouth, each new one breaking the smaller man's heart just a little more.

"You're lying,"

This was not Harry.

And yet, wasn't it? Louis had created an image in his ghostly heart of a beautiful yet troubled man, but he was already beginning to see the cracks. It was the reason why they had broken up in the first place. Had he fooled himself into thinking that his relationship with Harry was real?

The star's face remained neutral, with a slight smirk toying at his pretty, plump lips. They were wet from the whisky and his tongue glided across them, to savour the last of the alcohol.

"You just wanted to be loved. Classic mummy issues," That was the statement that crushed Louis. It hurt more than Harry saying that he didn't actually love him. He _knew_ how Louis felt about his mother and he intentionally wanted to hurt him.

"Fuck you Harry. You don't get to say that. Not after what happened with Gemma!" Louis knew he had made a mistake the minute the words came out of his mouth, but the tears were falling in a generous stream and he could no longer hold back the building pressure of the flood.

Harry's persona completely changed from relaxed, and closed off to power and dominance. His green eyes narrowed and shone like a villainous, serpentine beacon against the artificial red lights.

"Keep her name out of your dirty mouth!" He yelled, and for the first time that evening, he was expressing raw, unfiltered emotion. Wanting to draw from that and hurt him the way he had hurt him, Louis began to taunt Harry.

"Why? Gemma Gemma Gemma Gemma," the action was childish and immature but the ex contestant no longer cared. He had nothing left to lose. Harry had taken everything from him.

"Louis, I am warning you," Harry's words were sharp and cruel and Louis watched as his knuckles, that were gripping glass, turned white with anger. The delicate tumbler looked ready to crack between his fingers.

"You know what I wouldn't be shocked if you fucking killed her. Is that the big secret you're keeping? Come on Harry fess up or-"

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Red light morphed back into green and caught the crystals of the glass, sending kaleidoscopic colours onto the walls, as the tumbler flew through the air. Louis's eyes didn't shut as the cup raced towards him. He simply watched in shock horror as the gold rim spun like a planet in orbit.

There was an almighty crash to the left of his cheek as it narrowly missed his face and ricocheted off the wall and onto the floor. Small, dagger-like shards flew through the thick, pressurised atmosphere and Louis flinched as he watched crimson liquid, from his cheekbone, join the scattered pieces in a mess on the floor.

As the broken glass crashed against the kitchen tile, he watched it crack. A large black line formed and seemed to suck every life form inside of it. Louis let out a small chuckle. How could a kitchen tile represent their relationship so well. Now, no matter what they did to try and mend this, the crack would always serve as a reminder. It would never be truly fixed. Not now.

Within the commotion and sound of broken glass, Jamie rushed into the room. His eyes widened as he saw Louis's cut cheek and scared, vulnerable expression. Harry stood, leaning against the counter with a blank expression on his face.

"Louis. What happened? Are you ok?" He gasped running towards Louis and touching his bleeding cheek. The ex contestant, who had been in a state of shock blinked and looked at Jamie's big, comforting eyes. He leaned into the touch and nodded, shaking slightly.

"Keep that _addict_ away from me," He hissed, bitterly, making his disgust blatantly clear.

The drunk and drugged up star simply laughed and leaned towards Louis, who flinched and hid behind Jamie's taller stature. Harry seemed to revel in his new ability to scare his ex boyfriend and smirked.

"I'll throw another one and it won't miss this time," An evil laugh escaped his lips and his eyes were wild and psychotic.

"Harry!" Jamie cried, shocked and pushed Louis further behind him, acting as a protective shield. The forest did not seem to like this development very much and his branches began to grow nasty, violent thorns.

"You're fucking crazy," Louis squeaked from behind the assistant. He finally touched his injured cheek and almost gagged at the pain that shot through his body from the deep cut. It seemed that in this elemental rivalry, the sea was drying out and the ocean was losing his power.

"Yep that's me. Crazy, coked-up Harry Styles but you know what?"

"What?" He whispered.

"At least I'm not a whore who slept with his mentor and convinced himself that someone could actually love him. I mean look at you. You're a washed up nobody who is desperately clinging onto the idea that you can actually achieve something,"

The nasty gossip around Harry Styles had always circulated at parties, like moths to a flame, between the champagne and the stars, and Louis had never believed a word of it. Until now...

"I hate you," He whispered, anger coursing through his veins and his once budding love left half withered. A protective arm wrapped around him and began to pull him away from the broken shards and broken boy.

His cinematic, motion picture experience with Hollywood had been a tragedy and the credits were rolling, ending their time together.

Louis Tomlinson turned his back on Harry Styles and didn't look back.

===


	23. XXIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story! I hope you enjoy what's next!!

Rain pelted down against the glass, creating mellifluous sounds, which contrasted with the clatter of cutlery and occasional murmurs from the customers. Blackboard signs were littered with menus and dusty chalk stains, as they hung above the counter, and crumbs covered almost every surface; some finding their home on the dirty, unswept floor.

The small blue eyed boy sat in the corner of the quaint low budget cafe with his hands resting on the traditional blue and white checkered tablecloth. There was a frown on his face as he checked the clock once more. He left out a frustrated sigh and reached for another greasy chip that was slathered in tomato sauce.

What was he even doing here? He groaned and took a gulp of his Yorkshire tea, trying not to squirm at the weak brew. He’d had worse but it didn’t quite live up the one that… No he wasn’t going to even entertain that idea or think of _that_ person.

“Louis Tomlinson?” So swept up in his own emotions, he failed to notice the bell chime and the striking young woman enter. She was wearing a long, dark trench coat, and carried an expensive leather briefcase. Her hair was jet black and sat in a blunt bob with a block fringe. Her features were sharp and angular, making her seem like a sea siren, or some other mythical creature. It was nerve wracking... she was almost... predator-like.

Louis blinked once and then again, before registering that she had said his name.

“I am indeed,” He replied, clearing his throat, and offering her the seat in front of him. She sent him a small smile that looked more like a grimace and slid into the cheaply made bistro chair.

“I’m Ella Hewitt from the Sun. We spoke on the phone?” She took off her coat, revealing a fitted blood red suit underneath.

“You’re late,” He glanced at the small clock on the off-white wall and noted that the hand was pointed at half past when they had agreed to meet at quarter past.

“Yeah well,” Ella huffed as she glanced around at the cafe. Her face warped into disgust and her nose wriggled as she watched the waitress drop off a plate of cheesy nachos at a nearby table. “You gave me quite an obscure meeting place,”

Choosing to ignore her snobbery, Louis held out a greasy potato slice and smirked.

“Chip?”

She eyed the fried vegetable like it was a disease and shook her head.

“I’m good thanks,” She muttered before pulling out hand sanitiser and meticulously scrubbing at her hands. Louis tried not to smirk at her over-dramatic actions.

“Why did you invite me here Louis?” She questioned, once the cleaning gel was back in her outrageously expensive briefcase.

Louis swallowed and looked out at the rain through the window. Pedestrians were running and searching for shelter: umbrellas and coats no match for the element, whilst mini floods formed in the road.

He then closed his eyes and let the anger that he had been suppressing flow out.

“Because I fucking hate Harry Styles,” He snapped. He felt his knuckle involuntarily clench and his jaw hardened. Ella smirked at the reaction and narrowed her eyes… like a vulture.

“You mentioned that before,” she chuckled, referring to their earlier conversation. Louis flushed and watched as her long, animal-like claws dug around in her briefcase before finding a pen and notebook. She leant forward on the table and tilted her head. “But why?”

Louis scoffed and ran a hand through his soft, floppy brown hair. His eyes were narrowed and his mind was racing. He was angry.

“he ruined my life because his ego is too fucking big. You know why he voted me out?” Louis leaned forward on the table, his ocean eyes pouring into her venomous, predatory black ones.

She shrugged, but Louis could tell that she was hungry for information. The way her lip curled to reveal her sharp, pearly white teeth gave it away.

“it seemed personal from what I watched on TV so I’m guessing it wasn’t creative differences,” Her angular eyebrows raised out of interest and the small ex-contestant snorted. It was definitely _personal._

“We were fucking,” He answered bluntly, before taking another sip from his tea.

Ella seemed to choke on air and her eyes widened in shock and confusion.

“Excuse me?” She spluttered out, clearly unable to believe what secrets lay below the surface of the suffering ocean.

“Yep. And you wanna know why he booted me off the show? Because I ended it and his giant ego couldn’t handle it,” Now Louis had blurted out the truth, it was hard to stop. Ella’s wide eyes and captivating features seemed to entrance him into telling her the truth.

Her short, dark feathery hair fell into her face and she used her long claws to tame back behind her ear.

“He’s married though,” She replied, clearly unconvinced by the confession. It was understandable. Louis had dropped quite a big bomb.

“So’s Bill Clinton,” The minute the words left his mouth, he tensed and his mind wandered back to his best friend. He missed Niall infinitely and the reference brought him back to their conversation on the phone after his first incident with the rockstar. _Monica Lewinsky._

Unfazed by his change in demeanour, Ella leaned back on her chair and crossed her arms. The high-price notebook lay, untouched, on the table.

“This is a big claim. How do I know you’re not just lying because you’re mad he kicked you off the show,”

Louis nodded. He understood her hesitation and he paused for a moment. Did he really want to do this?

Trying not to think, he pulled out his phone and opened the folder titled “ _larry proof’._ It was not exactly the most creative name but Louis had given up on anything regarding Harry in the past few days. He no longer cared, even if he had stalked twitter to see what people had been saying about their dynamic.

Shaking his head, trying to throw the daydream away, Louis scrolled until he found a black and white photograph that Lottie had taken of the two of them. Harry had his arms around Louis in a protective embrace as he placed a gentle kiss on the smaller man. Louis’s face beamed as he was captured mid-laugh. The moment was personal and special. The forest and ocean colliding in an instance of peace and love. It was a shame that it had all been a sham and Louis had allowed the sea to be drained by greedy, obtrusive roots.

“This enough proof for you?” He muttered, shoving the picture in the journalist’s face. Her dark, vulture-like eyes widened and her sharp teeth were on full display again.

“Oh my god. Can I have a copy of a couple?” Her voice was harsh and she seemed to almost hiss. Louis failed to notice.

“I can send you all of them. I really don’t give a fuck anymore,” That was a lie.

Louis Tomlinson was permanently scarred: metaphorically and physically. His finger hovered up to the deep cut that had morphed into an ugly scab. There was no doubt that it was ingrained into his skin, much like how Harry’s words were ingrained into his bitter, lonely heart.

“He really hurt you huh?” Ella said out of interest, as she took Louis’s phone and airdropped the pictures and videos from his phone to hers.

“You’re a journalist, not a therapist. I don’t particularly wanna talk about it,” He watched as each document went through. Every individual memory. It was no longer a private moment. He had shared some of his most precious times. Yet, Louis could not bring himself to care. He was too broken to care.

Unaware of the inner turmoil, Ella leant forward on her seat once more and grabbed her notebook and pen again.

“So when did the affair start?” She asked, scribbling ferociously. She was hungry and needy for knowledge, and Louis was unaware and oblivious prey, about to feed her.

“We were on and off since the second round of auditions. We were arguing then next thing you know we were kissing,” Louis’s mind traveled back to the dressing room. Harry had seemed so dangerous, so cruel. If only he had listened to his instincts and stayed away.

“Was it purely sexual or…”

“It was to him. I know that now. God I was so stupid to think someone like _that_ could love someone like _me,”_ the words had not meant to come out but the Doncaster lad had opened the flood gates and water was flowing like tears of Hollywood actresses. He couldn’t seem to stop.

“So it wasn’t sexual for you?” Picking up on his tone, Ella’s brow raised and she glanced up. Louis shrank back in the chair, a shaky hand reaching for the last chip.

“No. Never. There was something so…” he paused for a moment. How could he describe the enigma that was Harry Edward Styles?

“Charismatic?” She offered.

Louis nodded.

“Exactly. Something so charismatic about him. I _loved_ him. I still do, even if I hate him,” Harry Styles was a drug and Louis Tomlinson was suffering from withdrawal symptoms. It seemed that no matter what, there would always be a part of his fragile heart that was wilted and battered and full of unjustifiable, unconditional love for the rockstar.

“How many times did you have sexual encounters?” Ella moved on quickly.

“I’m honestly not sure. I kinda lost count,” Louis blushed at the confession. She looked at him as if he was dirty. 

“If it was going so well, why did you break up with him?” There was judgment in her voice and Louis swallowed.

“I never said it was. Look there were several reasons. Firstly, you don’t know how fucking hard it is to be head over heels with someone who you can’t even acknowledge in public,”

It was true. Louis had been a dirty little secret. He’d assumed it had been for his own safety but after Harry’s nasty confession, he realised that he was probably embarrassed by Louis’s blatant feelings for him. He wasn't worth the bother.

“So you were tired of being a secret?” Louis nodded.

“Exactly. And Harry is… he’s complicated. He likes to party and his whole life is this big excessive charade. It was too much,” This seemed to perk Ella up, and she shuffled in her seat. Her senses seemed in overdrive and her long, sharp claws grated against the pen, sending a horrible, vulture-like sound through Louis’s ears. He flinched a little. 

“So he’s a drug user,” Ella smirked and Louis frowned, shaking his head.

“I never said that,” He snapped, eyeing her suspiciously. The nasty smile remained on her face.

“But he is,”

“I never said that,”

She snorted and began to scribble away in her notebook again. Uneasiness washed over the Doncaster lad. Something was not right.

“What about his sister or his family? Any mention of them?” The question took Louis off guard and he raised his eyebrow, evidently not impressed.

“Sorry? What is this?” He challenged. Her predator-like features morphed into mock-horror and confusion.

“What do you mean?” She said, trying to sound innocent. Her voice was high-pitched and there was a whiny tone to it.

“Why is his family relevant in any of this? This is about me and him. We don’t need to involve a third party,” Louis replied, a little too aggressively.

A snort escaped the journalist’s lips and she threw her head back and released a sigh.

“But Louis. There’s already a third party involved. There’s his wife, his management, his fans. Your friends, your family. Did you really think that this would be a small story?”

Louis froze.

“I-“

“This is fucking huge. Closeted gay rockstar takes advantage of poverty stricken, grieving talent show contestant,”

Louis’s jaw dropped to the floor and the sound of the rain on the window became overwhelming: sounds of rushing water loud in his eardrum. He felt sick.

“That’s not what happened at all. What are you doing?”

Ella cackled, displaying those sharp canines once more, and adjusted her blood red suit.

“I’m selling the story. It’s what journalists do,” She shrugged and checked her nail, obviously unbothered by Louis’s concern.

“No. You’re supposed to write the truth. Not whatever garbage just came out of your mouth,” He snapped. He could not believe what she was saying. On the phone, she had promised an honest interview, with no twisting of words. This was so wrong.

Her smirk morphed into a marauder’s expression and gluttony fuelled her fire.

“You really are the most naive little popstar. Did you really think that Harry could just come out and that would be the end of it?” The words were cruel and sarcastic and Louis hated it. A myriad of pain overflowed in his head and heart as he realised what had just happened.

He had, absent-mindedly, become prey to a vulture and she was ready to rip at his skin in order to get a story. 

_I'm a walking skeleton right now, Louis, and they still want to tear me limb from limb._

He had not quite understood Harry’s words when he had read the letter, but now…

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want this story printed. Please forget we ever had this meeting,” He said in a rush. This would not just upset Harry. This story was about to ruin his life.

“With the proof you just gave me?” Ella laughed bitterly and held out the incriminating evidence on her phone.

Fuck.

What had he done?!

“Not a chance. Sorry Louis. I guess you should have thought about the consequences before you contacted me. I’m here to sell newspapers. Not help you get back at your ex boyfriend for making you a little sad,”

And like a vulture, she left him a carcass. He was stripped of everything that he had held dear, which she walked away with her belly full and content.

===

Louis hadn’t left his Doncaster bed in over two days. His face had not seen the sun and his voice had not been heard. He felt naked and cold and dirty and used. 

Ella fucking Hewitt was about to ruin Harry Styles’s life and it was _his_ fault.

A piercing ring pulled him from his catatonic state and he groaned, leaning over and checking the caller ID.

Lottie.

“Hello?” He said, tentatively. His sister rarely called him unless there was an emergency or she wanted something from him.

“Louis William Tomlinson! What the fuck did you do?” She screamed through the phone, and he winced, holding it away from his ear. It was definitely the first option. 

“What are you talking about?” He asked. His voice was scratchy from lack of use and he tried to clear his throat.

“You and Harry. It’s everywhere. Every single newspaper is covering it. You were literally on BBC news this morning and now Piers Morgan is banging on about it. What did you do?!”

And there it was.

The words he had dreaded. The story was out. It was published. And just like Ella had said, it was huge.

“I fucked up, Lotts,” He whispered. There was a moment of silence on the other line before she spoke again.

“Yeah. No shit,” She muttered and Louis looked down. A single, precious diamond trickled across his face and he wiped it away quickly, wanting to erase his emotions. It didn’t work.

“Look whatever you do, don’t go outside. The press are camping by your house. It’s like a mob out there,”

Out of curiosity, Louis peeked out of the curtain and gasped. Hundreds of photographers and journalists were surrounding his home, overflowing onto the street and taking residence in his garden.

He was trapped, surrounded by more vultures.

“Holy shit.” He whispered, before shutting the curtain and collapsing back on his incredibly old bed. It still smelt like Harry and he buried his head in the pillow for a moment.

“Has Harry released a statement or anything?” He then asked. There was another wave of silence and he swallowed.

“Nope but all of his social media has been deleted. It’s like there’s no trace of him,”

Louis nodded and hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

“What have I done?” He whispered to himself, before the tears consumed his vision. He was drowning in his own ocean. The tidal waves were his own doing, and yet he was sinking to the bottom of the seabed. He felt the liquid fill up his lungs and he gasped for air, grabbing at the non-existent surface. The waves were breaking and crashing against cliffs and he sat at the bottom of the sea, trying to find some oxygen, but he was still drowning. There was nothing he could do. There were no branches to pull him out, no fire, no light. Just him in total darkness, suffocating.

_Here's some advice: DON'T wear your heart on your sleeve. They'll take it from you and rip it to shreds, until they smell blood. And once blood is spilt, they'll circle like vultures, crowding and pressuring you. There's no escape, until they've ripped every piece of meat off of your bones._

After hours of sobbing uncontrollably, Louis peeked through the curtains again, praying that the press had left. It was dark outside, so surely they had families to see.

He let out a sigh of anger and frustration as he saw that even more reporters had joined. Harry was right. They were all vultures. Evil, ugly vultures, hungry for his skin.

A buzz was heard on his phone and he rushed to read it.

**Harry Styles:** _I hate you. You have no idea what you’ve done_


	24. XXIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry :)

Daylight had not touched his ghostly, pale, white skin in days: curtains used as protective barriers from the evils of the outside world. The sun continued to try and push her way through the small cracks in the cheaply-made, polyester fabric, covering the glass windows. Her rays were relentless and needy, but Louis Tomlinson ignored her. He was a hermit, a shut-in who was unable to let anyone in. He yearned to be a caterpillar, wishing he could cocoon himself in a thick shell until the storm had passed. Not a single soul had heard from the ex contestant since the article dropped. Lottie continuously called, her name constantly appearing on Louis’s cracked android screen, but Louis let the ringing play out until the battery eventually ran out of charge. He was in no mood to be lectured.

Completely isolated and surrounded by a sea of predatory vultures, Louis Tomlinson was vulnerable and near breaking point.

His mind was a jumbled mess, still trying to process what had happened. All he could think of was Harry Edward Styles. Their last conversation ran through his mind like clockwork, continuing to tear at his bleeding and bruising heart that was barely beating.

Guilt consumed every cell in his body and hurt was a permanent feature in his bloodstream. He wondered how Harry was feeling, terrified to charge his phone in case the rockstar had sent him another text message.

_I hate you. You have no idea what you’ve done_

I. Hate. You.

The words had seeded and blossomed in Louis’s brain, spreading far and wide: their thick, mangled branches ripping and shredding at the delicate nerve pathways until Louis was an emotional and uncontrollable mess.

As Louis sat, wallowing in his depressive state, he heard a loud banging at the door and froze.

Not again.

Why couldn’t the paparazzi leave him alone? He curled up into a foetus position and closed his eyes, yearning for the loud knocking to cease. Eventually, the sound stopped and he released a sigh of relief, and began to uncurl slowly. That was when he heard it.

Someone had unpicked the lock and opened the door.

Unsure on what to do, Louis froze. His hands were clammy and his pulse was racing at a hypersonic speed.

Fuck.

His nerves overwhelmed him as he prepared for the flashing camera in his face, capturing what a horrible coward he was.

“Louis?” A familiar voice called out to the darkness. The small man shot up, unable to believe what he was hearing. He squinted in the dark, hoping to get a better view.

“Niall?” He called out tentatively to the thick Irish accent. He heard some shuffling and the room was suddenly illuminated in an artificial light. The blonde man’s hand hovered over the switch and a look of soft sympathy was written on his face.

“Hey,” He muttered, walking slowly towards Louis, with a small albeit comforting smile on his face.

“What are you doing here? How did you even get in? The street is covered in reporters,” Confusion ripped through any relief Louis had seeing his ex friend there. According to the text he had received from his sister before letting his phone die, the whole street had been swarmed by reporters and she had not even been able to reach his front door.

“Louis, there’s no one outside,” Niall answered in a slightly concerned tone. His head was tilted to the side and he seemed concerned by the Doncaster lad’s paranoid state.

Flicking his overgrown fringe out of his face, Louis sprang to his feet and moved towards the window. He took a deep breath and prepared for the taunting vultures to appear at the glass: hungry expressions written across their villainous faces and sharp teeth bared.

And yet there was nothing but darkness. Not a single living soul was outside. Only a flickering streetlight and cheap, battered cars littered the street, potholes looking like blackholes in the eery night.

“Oh,” Louis pulled his face away from the window and his brow creased. What was going on.

“There were hundreds before,” he explained, hoping Niall would not think he was going crazy. The Irish man chuckled and took a step towards Louis.

“I’m not surprised. You really dropped a bomb huh?” He smiled, trying to reach his friend, but Louis did not want him anywhere near. He took a step back as Niall took one forward and knocked his heel on a table leg. He winced at the pain and looked away. He was not sure why the proximity bothered him, but there was an alarm ringing in the back of his mind and sending adrenaline through his spine. Being near anyone meant danger.

“I wonder where they went,” He muttered to himself, before drawing his arms up to his chest, feeling a little self-conscious. His living room was cold and goosebumps were scattered across his arms like little pebbles in a stream.

“Probs found a better story. You’re yesterday's news,” Niall answered, shrugging his shoulder.

Louis scoffed and shook his head. What would be a better story than a gay love affair? Apparently, tabloids _loved_ that type of ‘thing’.

Taking in his hostile and closed off appearance, his friend frowned. His icy blue eyes fell on Louis’s cheek and his brows knitted together. He opened his mouth, before closing it again. Silence rang out between them before Niall finally spoke.

“What happened to your face?”

The smaller, dark haired lad froze and swallowed. His shaking hand that had been gripping his biceps in a desperate attempt to stay grounded, slowly stroked his battered cheek. He winced at the sudden pain and tears welled up in his eyes. He had been picking at the scab constantly, and knew that it was going to scar.

A permanent reminder of messing with nature.

A permanent mark of thick branches, soaking up sea water until the ocean was drained.

Permanent.

“It’s nothing,” He muttered, turning his face away, self-consciously.

“Did Harry do that to you?” There was an undertone of anger in the Irish man’s voice and Louis flinched. His hand went back to his bicep and he pinched at the skin. Ignoring the question, he looked up to meet his friend’s eyes: blue ice and blue water.

“If you’re here to tell me ‘ _i told you so_ ,’ I’m not in the mood,” He whispered, before glancing down at the floor.

“Louis-“

The pain and restraint in Niall’s voice was enough to break down the walls and open the flood gates. Tears of precious diamonds streamed down Louis’s face, priceless and beautiful, yet utterly tragic.

“I know I fucked up ok? I don’t need you reminding me,” He spluttered out, between harsh and fast breaths. His vision was blurry and his mind was once again a jumbled mess. He turned away from his friend, planning to leave the room. Niall could see himself out.

“You stupid, stupid man. I’m here to make sure you’re ok,” Niall sighed, and Louis stopped moving, stealing a glance at him. Raw, heartfelt emotion was clear on his face and it was enveloped in sympathy and love.

“Oh,”was all Louis could say back.

“Yeah oh. Come here,” Niall’s arms spread open and before he could even register what he was doing, Louis threw himself into his embrace. He was touch starved and yearning for his best friend’s love and affection. He had missed Niall so much and being able to smell his overpriced aftershave and feel his lean muscles press against the small of back was comforting. For so long, he had convinced himself that Harry Styles was his home. But he wasn’t.

His home was with his family and with his friends.

It was with Niall.

Harry Styles had not been home. He had been a prison.

Pulling out of the embrace, Niall sent him a beaming smile and Louis returned it, although it probably looked more like a grimace.

“let’s open the curtains huh? It’s a bit musty in here,” He chuckled, moving towards the windows.

“Niall-“

He watched as the man moved around the various rooms, throwing open the curtains and opening the glass so fresh air could circulate through the small, terrace house.

“Come on. We’re not gonna sit here and wallow in the dark,” He sent Louis a reassuring look and it sent a warm feeling into Louis’s heart. It may have been broken, scarred and charred by the heat of his ex, but it was still capable of so much. It still held so much love for his friend.

“What do you propose?” He smiled genuinely. Niall had been back in his life for all of five minutes and he was already turning it around.

“I bought Ben and Jerrys and a lot of chocolate. We’re gonna put on a cheesy rom-com and we’re both gonna scoff our faces and sob,” The Irish man said and Louis’s mouth dropped open and he laughed for the first time in days.

“So we’re gonna wallow with the window open and the lights on?” He said between the giggles. Niall sent him a smirk as he pushed his hair out of his face and began to dig into a shopping bag that he had left at the front door.

“Precisely,” He grinned. He pulled out a tub of chunky monkey and chucked it at Louis. He caught it before looking back at the Irish lad.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I was a dick,” He mumbled, and his friend scoffed and nodded.

“you were and I’m still mad but you’re my best friend and I’m not about to let you suffer alone. We’ve been through too much for that,” He answered in a blasé manner. Throwing himself on the old, dented sofa, he began to dig into a tub of cookie dough ice cream. Releasing a sigh, Louis joined him. 

“I love you nialler,” He mumbled and placed his head on the blonde’s shoulder. A strong arm wrapped around his body and engulfed him in warmth.

“Love you too loubear,” Niall chuckled, before reaching for the remote and turning on the tv.

What the two were faced with was not what they wanted to see.

BBC News had Harry Styles’s face plastered across a big digital screen, whilst a presenter stood in front of it with a grave expression on his ageing face.

“breaking news,” The man announced in a strong North London accent. He had greying, longish hair and a few wrinkles but there was a ghost of an attractive young man still present in his face. His eyebrows were furrowed and he seemed very serious.

This was not good. BBC News did not do pointless gossip.

Louis braced himself.

“Further details of the death of Gemma Styles, singer of rock singer, Harry Styles, have been released. The news comes just days after ex factor 28 contestant, Louis Tomlinson, admitted to a sexual affair with the star. Styles and his team are yet to comment. We turn over to Sarah with the details in the development,”

Feeling his friend move to change the channel, Louis grabbed the remote and pulled it away from him.

“No! Keep it on!” He cried out, sending a pleading look to Niall. The man looked hesitant but he nodded, turning his attention back to what was being said on the news.

“So what exactly is this new information regarding his sister, Gemma?” The presenter asked his colleague.

The screen changed to a ginger woman in her mid-thirties, holding a microphone. Behind her, Louis could just about make out Harry’s mansion, lit up with various lights. Still shining like a beacon, even in the worst of times.

“Well there’s a lot of information that has been released, Phil. But to summarise it, it has come to light that Gemma Styles committed vehicular manslaughter,”

Louis froze.

No. That couldn’t be. He had misheard. How were they just finding this out now?

“Sorry Sarah. Did I hear you correctly?” The presenter, Phil, seemed equally as surprised as the Doncaster lad and confusion was written all over his face.

Louis felt Niall’s arms tighten around him, but he barely noticed. His eyes were glued to the screen, unable to process what was going on.

“I’m afraid you did,”

No.

“Gemma Styles was high on a lethal dose of Cocaine and alcohol when her car hit that of 48 year old Michael Kingsley,”

No.

“According to the new reports, they both died instantly,”

How was this new information? Surely someone knew? Why would it only just come out? Why-

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” The smaller man shoved Niall’s arms off of him and sprinted to his bathroom. He could hear his friend calling his name but there was a ringing in his ears and he had tunnel vision. He couldn’t see anything but Harry’s face and Harry’s secret and _oh god-_

Louis began heaving into the toilet, absolutely everything leaving his stomach and ending up in the bowl. It was disgusting and he could taste acid and bile, and yet he couldn’t stop retching.

“Are you ok?” There was an Irish voice coming from the hallway and Louis shook his head as Niall came closer and began to rub circles on his back. The action was comforting and helped a lot and eventually the gagging subsided.

“I need a drink,” the man muttered, pulling away from the toilet and leaning his head against the cold wall. It was grounding and helped uncloud his vision. Niall shot him a concerned gaze and he scoffed.

“Don’t give me that look and don’t try to lecture me. This is my fault. All of this has come out because of me,” He muttered, disgusted with himself. No wonder Harry hated him.

Louis hated Louis.

“You don’t know that,”

He laughed at that and shook his head a little too enthusiastically. 

“I do. He had a secret. Simon was blackmailing him. And I ruined it. I just had to open my fucking _mouth_ ,” Louis banged the back of his head on the wall and groaned as the pain echoed through his skull.

“Louis this isn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself for the actions of other people,” Niall tried to reason, still bending down to Louis’s height.

“No, but I can blame myself for the actions I took. I chose to go to that newspaper. I sold our love like it was some tabloid hot topic, and all I’ve done is pay for it,” The ex-contestant muttered as he stood up. Ignoring Niall who was still crouched down, he made his way to the kitchen and began to sieve through the cupboards until he found it.

A bottle of unopened Smirnoff vodka.

Without a second thought, he tore the bottle cap off and slammed it on the countertop. The last time he’d used that counter, had been with Harry. He winced at the memory. The way their hands and tongues explored each other. The way their bodies fit together and the way their skin clashed in harmony. It had all been so new and exciting; so vulnerable and open and now…

I guess it really was crazy how fast the night changed.

“Drinking yourself into oblivion isn’t going to help,” Niall mumbled, entering the kitchen and eying the opened bottle of alcohol in Louis’s hand.

“You wanna bet?”

Louis winced as the strong liquid hit the back of his throat and fire burnt his oesophagus.

===

Half of the vodka bottle had been drunk and Louis could barely sit up. He was hunched over on the floor, leaning heavily against the sofa. Niall sat above him. Although angry at his friend for attempting to drink his problems away, he didn’t leave. He couldn’t. Not again.

“You don’t get it. Everything about him was so fucking perfect. He was this all encompassing forest and he gave me shelter when the rain was pouring,” The words that Louis occasionally slurred were random and sporadic and left Niall annoyed and frustrated.

“What the fuck are you going on about?” He replied, clearly growing tired of the smaller man’s reckless decision making and nonsensical, whimsical words.

“I was ready to give up my career for him. My whole life, because I was so in love with him, but he couldn’t do the same. I thought it was because of me. I never even considered how fucking big his secret actually was. I’m just a self-obsessed whiny bitch who didn’t listen to a word he said,”

“Louis-“

“He basically told me Niall. We were driving up here and he told me about driving on drugs and I didn’t fucking listen to him. Zayn warned me about spilling secrets. He said:  _The less you reveal, the more they want to know. Keep it for the music._ Why didn’t I fucking listen?” Louis wasn’t sure when he had started crying but he could feel the water pouring out of his soul and onto the floor.

He was lost at sea. A shipwreck.

“Louis you’re being too hard on yourself. Harry not telling you about his sister is not and will never be your fault,” Niall sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Louis hiccupped and shook his head. He was drooling a little and swaying a lot.

“What if it is though? What if I just destroyed the life of the man I loved? And for what? Revenge? I fucking hate myself,”

He felt the sofa move and suddenly he was faced with his best friend who sat in front of him. He whipped his friend’s face with his hands and tried to make eye contact with him, but Louis’s eyes were all over the place. He couldn’t seem to focus on anything, no matter how hard he tried to stare back.

“Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that. Yes, you’ve majorly fucked up but you can’t blame yourself entirely for this. Harry Styles was bad news from the get go,”

“Niall-“

“No Louis. You keep saying you don’t listen so just shut up and do it for once,”

The harsh tone shocked the singer and he frowned, looking down at his hands. He was still swaying and the world was beginning to spin.

Unaware of how much vertigo Louis was experiencing, Niall grabbed his friend’s face so he would look at him and pay attention. The movement was gentle but enough to snap Louis out of his dizzy spell.

“Harry was just as bad as you. If not worse. He emotionally abused you for months. He used you like a damn sex doll. He pressured you into taking drugs. He destroyed your dream because you broke up with him. Look what he did to your face. That man was fucking toxic and the secret was bound to come out eventually,”

Each word that left Niall’s mouth felt like another punch in the gut but it was all true. All of it. Harry had been the worst mistake of his life and yet he could not accept that it was over. He could not accept that him and Harry were finished.

“You wanna know the worst part? I know all of that. I know that our relationship was 50 shades of fucked up. But I still fucking love him. Every time I close my eyes I see his face. I-“

Before Louis could finish the sentence, he felt a wave of nausea wave over him. Without thinking, he got up and stumbled into the bathroom.

For the second time that night, Louis Tomlinson threw up.

“So how’s the drinking plan going,” Niall asked in a disapproving tone. He was leaning against the doorframe and watching his friend slowly spiral. There was nothing else he could do but be there. People broke down because they did not have help or support. Niall was not going to let that happen.

His head still in the toilet bowl, Louis began to giggle, trying to ignore the strong smell of alcohol and vomit in the air.

“This is so fucking ironic,” he groaned and ran a shaking hand through his knotted, mousey brown hair.

“Why?”

Louis smiled as the memory came flooding back.

_Absolutely everything came up. He couldn't stop chundering and he felt shaky and tired._

_He leaned his head against the stall and sighed at his pathetic behaviour. Shaking the uneasy feeling off, Louis stood and grabbed some gum from his pocket to get rid of the acidic aftertaste in his mouth. He then closed his eyes and prepared himself to re-enter the room._

_Leaving the stall in a rush, he failed to see someone else and clashed with their body with painful and staggering impact. He was going to fall, he could feel it, this was going to be so embar-_

_-a strong hand fitted behind his back and pulled him up so that he was face-to-face with the stranger._

_"Oops," He chuckled and Louis' eyes widened. Long dark eyelashes framed the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. They were that hue of green that only shows when the sun hits the sea in England at just the right spot, where the sun-rays leave golden specks dancing in the water. Interwoven shades of green, blue and gold hiding the chaotic nature behind them. Never before had eyes held such danger and beauty all at once. Harry Styles was a wild fire: reckless, untamed, yet undeniably captivating._

_"Hi," Louis replied back, slightly breathless from the near fall and the man in front of him. Harry smirked slightly and ran his hand through his short, wavy hair. Louis stared in awe. His hair was dark and lustrous and had a sheen like fine hardwood, the depths of the deep chestnut brown reflecting the radiance of his smile._

“I met him for the first time after I threw up. It’s how it all started, and this is how it ends,”


	25. XXV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me :)
> 
> I announce new updates on my twitter @lxuisfineline if you want to give me a follow.

“Harry, are you listening to me?” A harsh voice cut through the singer’s thoughts like sharp glass and his head shot up. His bright green eyes were bloodshot and lifeless; dark, void cycles sat underneath. Tremors rippled through his frail body and he fidgeted with his cumbersome hands, restlessly. He blinked once, and then twice, trying to process what was going on.

“Harry?” Concern seeped through Jamie’s voice as he reached for the man’s delicate, shaking body. The rockstar finally met his gaze and felt his whole world crumble. Emotion seeped out of every pore but not a single tear left his broken shell. He felt truly empty, too tired to feel anything. And yet, Harry could feel the entire weight of the world on his shoulders and it was pushing and crushing him.

The bones were about to break.

It was only a matter of time before the news of his sister hit the papers. Everything he had done, everything he had sacrificed had been for nothing.

Gemma Styles: _murderer_.

The thought made Harry want to throw up, or snort another line. Maybe both.

He took in his assistant’s appearance. Jamie seemed hagged and weary, probably exhausted from dealing with Harry’s unpredictable and childish behaviour. The two had been at odds since the glass throwing incident with Louis and the singer could not help but notice how his assistant was walking on eggshells around him. The lack of sparkle in his eyes caused the star’s stomach to drop and guilt consumed him. He was a vacuum, slowly pulling the life out of everyone he held dear. First his sister, then Louis and now his assistant. He could not keep doing it.

Most people believed that forests were full of life and hope, but Harry disagreed. He’d seen their desolate nature in barren plains. Petrified trees creating mangled, warped ghosts of the past and dark, copper red sand tapping at their feet. Some forests deserved to be alone. He was one of them.

“Jamie. you’re dismissed,” the words left his chapped, bitten lips before he had even processed what he was saying. Shock and confusion was written across his assistant’s face and he tilted his head, probably suspecting that he had misheard his boss.

“What?” He asked, apprehensively. He ran a hand through his gingery brown hair and blinked several times. Seeing him so worried and concerned hurt Harry to the core, but it also reinforced his beliefs.

Harry Styles deserved to be alone and Jamie was too good for him.

“You’re fired. Please leave my property,” He replied, refusing to look at his assistant. He turned away and stared at the wall. His eyes traveled to the Great Gatsby book, proudly displayed on his bookshelf. The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg stared back at him, smugly, forever watching and judging his movements.

Harry’s life was a moral wasteland and it was judgement day.

The eyes were finally casting their damnation.

Sensing the star’s unease, Jamie reached out and lightly touched his pale arm. Harry flinched but he did not pull away.

“Harry, I really don’t think you should be alone right now,” there was a kindness in his voice that made Harry squirm and remove the comforting hand from his bicep. He did not deserve that type of love. Jamie needed to go before he hurt him, like he had with everyone else.

“Please leave. If you don’t, I will call security,” emotion was void in his voice, despite the empty, vacant pain in his chest. He watched Jamie’s face fuse from confusion to disappointment and he nodded, slowly. He knew that Harry was not giving him an empty threat.

“Ok. I’ll go get my stuff,” there was a hesitation in his movements and Harry knew he was stalling.

“No. leave. now,” He snapped. His voice was harsher than he intended and he saw his friend wince.

It left a shallow grave in his heart: dead but not quite buried.

It hurt but, like a bandaid, the quicker he ripped Jamie out of his life, the less it would hurt in the long run. For both of them.

And so, like everyone else in his life, his friend and assistant turned his back and walked away. There was a sadness in his strides, but Harry continued to repeat ‘ _it’s necessary’_ in his head. It wasn’t like Jamie would have his job for much longer anyway. The minute the exposé came out, Harry was dropped quicker than he could even process Louis’s betrayal.

_I hate you. You have no idea what you've done._

There was not much thought that had gone into the malicious text message he had sent after reading the interview. He just wanted to hurt Louis. He wanted to hurt him the way that he had hurt him. Reading those words, _seeing_ what Louis thought of him was more painful than any other feeling he'd ever experienced. It was yet more proof that he was poison. He hurt anything he touched and people needed to stay away from him.

He wondered if that was how Daisy felt about Gatsby. Did he suffocate her? Or was he better than that? Was he better than Harry?

Now alone in a big, echoing mansion, Harry felt oddly at peace. At least he could not hurt anyone else.

His subconscious brought him up the stairs and to _the_ room. He hesitated opening it, like he always did. The door creaked slightly as he pushed on the handle and when the door hinge clicked, he felt ghosts enter his soul.

Walking into that room took him back in time. It took him back to his old house in Holmes Chapel. There were old, dusty boy band posters on the wall and an abundance of fairy lights littering the ceiling. Photos of girls at parties sat in frames, completely untouched and gathering dust. A small twin bed was huddled in the corner, overwhelmed by pillows and a fluffy pink blanket and there were bookcases full of trashy young adult novels that _she_ loved to read.

Harry felt a single tear run down his pale, gaunt face as he looked at his sister posing with all of her friends. Gemma had been so beautiful and so broken.

Most people would probably think he was weird for building a replica of his dead sister’s room in his new house, but surrounding himself with her stuff comforted him and reminded him that he was not the only fucked up person.

Lying on the floor, he turned to the urn that sat on her vanity desk and felt the tears sliding down his face and hitting the carpeted floor with a dull and quiet thud. He sent the urn a small smile, as if it would return it, before reaching into his pocket.

There was an abundance of pills clinking together and the rockstar’s hand shook at the thought of taking them. He had taken more before, and perhaps this many would dull the ache in his heart for a little while. It wouldn’t do any harm to try.

A sense of calmness overwhelmed him as he crushed them up on the vanity desk, next to his sister’s ashes. It was weird. He knew it was weird and yet he did it time and time again. Gemma almost felt like a guiding light, still instructing him on how to do it properly, even from the grave. 

He winced as the substance was snorted up his nose and hoped he would not have another nose bleed.

As he lay back on the soft carpet, staring at the pristine ceiling, he noticed a small crack. It jumped out and seemed to grow in size, opening wider and wider. It was like a black hole, sucking everything in sight and it was heading towards Harry. He gasped in fear and shook his head. The crack disappeared.

_Shit the pills were hitting._

he continued eyeing the crack, paranoid that it would grow once more and drag him into the darkness.

As Harry’s mind became more clouded by the drugs and he felt himself circling the drain once more, his thoughts traveled to Louis. That man had been so perfect, so wonderful. They could have been the greatest team, but Harry chose to get wasted. Just like their potential.

He knew his issues were all just champagne problems and yet they burnt like cheap whiskey.

He had fucked Louis Tomlinson over.

The wind makes nice waves: gentle foam crashing against the shore. But hurricanes can make tsunamis: huge perilous bodies of water ready to destroy anything in their wake.

Harry Styles was and would always be a hurricane.

“this is your fault, you know?” He muttered, pointing an accusing finger at his sister. His vision was blurry and there was a whooshing in his ears. _Holy shit._ He could feel his heartbeat in his feet.

“you’re the one who did this to me. I was fifteen!” Harry continued to rant at the urn, as if Gemma would somehow reply to him.

“I was fifteen and you were an addict. A selfish, lonely addict who got her innocent brother involved in her mess,” A sob escaped the star’s bitten lips.

“I was a child Gemma! You told me that it would be fine. You lied to me,” Like an infant, he began to curl in on himself, as if he was trying to shield his face from the dangers surrounding him.

“And now look at us. You’re in a fucking jar and I’m in living hell. Do you know how hard it is for me to stay sober? Do you know how painful it was to be with Louis?”

His memory flooded back to all their times together. Every kiss, every laugh, every fight. It was all dictated by one thing.

“No matter how fucking happy he made me all I could do was think about that moment of euphoria when the powder hits my nose. Every second with him was overshadowed by drugs. Drugs that you encouraged me to take!”

Harry Styles was an addict. He was addicted to drugs and alcohol. But most of all, he was addicted to the thrill of self-destruction.

“God I hate you so much. You ruined my life,”

He thought back to all those times the two of them would sit in her room and snort coke together or take Molly or any other drug. Anything to get them both through the night. Gemma made it seem so normal, so cool. Harry had just gone along with it. Little did he know what would happen.

“you left me here. You ruined my life and then you fucking left me. Why Gemma? Why?”

Silence was the only response he received.

“I’m so fucking lonely. I just want him back,”

Harry cried. He cried harder than he ever had. He really thought it would be impossible for his body to generate more tears, but they just keep coming. They were relentless and brazen with anger and emptiness.

Life in the spotlight was a curse and the villains that lived in Harry’s head seemed to chant constantly, reminding him of his lack of control and power over his own life. For years, he had been on a downward spiral and he was about to hit rock bottom.

The whooshing noises in his ears became louder, and his heartbeat got quicker and his vision got blurrier and…

“Harry?” Through all of the haze, he heard a voice. A voice of hope and love. A beautiful melody of mellifluous sounds and feelings.

Harry gasped and uncurled himself from the foetal position. In a rush to stand up, he stumbled and bashed his knee on the bookshelf. He heard a smash and watched a photo frame tumble and shatter, but he was too elated to care.

He began to wobble towards the door, grabbing the wall as support so he did not fall. It seemed that his limbs had stopped functioning and his whole body felt like jelly.

“Harry? Come see me. I miss you,” the high pitched voice was soft yet loud and there was a slight roughness to the words. So comforting and warm.

“I’m coming Lou,” Harry cried out, pushing himself closer and closer to the source of the noise. Had Louis really come back for him? In his hour of need, had the Doncaster singer sensed his distress and come to rescue him from his demons.

He lunged towards the stairs, desperate to wrap his arms around Louis’s small waist and kiss him harder than he had ever kissed anyone before. All the anger and betrayal he had felt was gone. All that remained was love and desperation.

In his haste, Harry tripped and fell down the last few stairs. He felt the air rush past him and he hopelessly flailed his arms around, trying to stop the fall. It did not work. His face smacked into the cold, marble tile and he heard a crunch. Shooting pain attacked him and he groaned, looking at the floor.

A pool of Scarlett liquid was forming on the marble and there was a throbbing sensation in his nose.

“Shit,” He whispered as the blood continued to gush out of his nostrils. Ignoring the pain, he heaved himself up and continued to stumble towards the voice.

“I’m p-paralyzed with happiness,” He heard Louis giggle and a smile formed on Harry’s face.

“My Daisy. I’m coming,” He yelled back, feeling euphoric. Was this how Gatsby felt when he laid eyes on his true love after years apart? Was he as jubilant as Harry?

The voice continued yelling nonsensical quotes from the 1920s novel and the rockstar followed the voice like it was a siren, calling him into the sea.

Eventually he reached the decadent doors to the pool room. That’s when he saw him.

An angel was standing on the far side of the pool with a beaming smile plastered on his face.

He was bathed in a heavenly green light, as if all of the forests in the world had told the sun their deepest secret and she had exposed them to the world, sending cascading truths onto those below. Emerald danced across Louis’s pale skin and jade glistened in his hair. The light gave Louis verisimilitude. He had never looked more clear in the idiosyncratic, peculiar glow.

It was simply breathtaking.

A smile formed on Harry’s face as the smaller man’s arms stretched out towards him, inviting him closer.

“Lou!” He cried, rushing towards him, in a mad stumble.

He almost made it. He was so close and then…

Cold water hit Harry’s skin and took his breath away. Darkness engulfed him and he gasped, only to be met with chlorine flooding his lungs, forcing him further and further from the surface. He knew he needed to fight. He needed to swim, but his limbs did not seem to respond. He was thrashing inside an invisible prison in his mind. Harry opened his eyes, hoping to see Louis’s hand reaching for him. There was no one. He had no one.

Harry Styles was drowning.

He began to scream underwater, letting out every emotion in his system. The chemical treated water gushed down into his lungs and caused an intense pain to ricochet off his ribs and around his torso. It was almost unbearable. He opened his eyes again and saw the sun dancing on the surface, mocking him. He saw the exit but he did not have the strength to fight.

Harry thought back to all the times he had felt like he was drowning. It had been an almost everyday occurrence, but it had been nothing compared to this. He was so close to hope and yet he could not help himself. As panic faded into numbness, his heartbeat slowed down increasingly and a small smile formed on his lip.

‘ _this is what happened to Gatsby’_.

That thought stayed with him as he gave into the darkness and let the water take him.

_‘goodbye Louis Tomlinson’._

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys don't forget to leave kudos and comment <3


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